Outside
by WhoTurnedOffTheLights
Summary: What do you do when everything's gone wrong? Sounding off its start with a lose-lose decision on the top of a hill with a light house and a giant storm, Maxine Caulfield and Chloe Price are forced to deal with the consequences of their actions, or lack thereof. "Life is so not fair." Sticks to the story canon where Max makes the more 'wrong' or 'not good' decisions.
1. Another great day in Arcadia Bay!

**Hello all! Figured I ought to preface this with a few tid bits and facts. Firstly, this is my first time writing a story in general- that being said, criticism, reviews, suggestions or even kind words are always appreciated. Secondly, if you find yourself liking the story, apologies in advance for an erratic upload schedule. I know myself well enough that clear-cut-constant-consistency-clearly-can't be one of my strong suits. Lastly, I hope you enjoy the read!  
**

"This is my storm! I caused this- I caused all of this! I changed fate and destiny so much that I actually did alter the course of everything!" Max's eyes go wide and she wildly gestures at the horrible sight in front of us.

Fuck. Shit. She's panicking.

"And all I really created was just death and destruction!" Even her voice is hoarse.

Okay, time to step in- if I don't this'll become a full-on meltdown.

"Fuck all of that! Okay? You were given a power. You didn't ask for it- And you saved me. Which had to happen. All of this did! Except for what happened to Rachel."

"But without your power, we wouldn't have found her! Okay, so you're not the goddamn time master, but you're Maxine Caulfield."

I grab the frightened hipster by the shoulders for emphasis.

"And you're amazing."

I search her face for some kind of response, but she only stares at the ground. Then at the encroaching storm. The rain is hitting hard enough to sting, the wind is trying to steal my breath. I feel dizzy.

An intrusive thought enters my head. It's like someone is scratching my brain. Suddenly I remember I have the photo Max took before all this began. If she goes back and does nothing, then the storm will never happen.

"Max this is the only way." I speak without thinking. I hand her the polaroid.

My mind starts to split in two and come undone. I can't seriously be proposing that she lets me die in a public bathroom, right? That would be fucking insane. One day I should learn to think then talk.

"I feel like I took this shot a thousand years ago…"

 **'But it would be selfish not to die. Those people down there don't deserve this.'**

Nobody deserves anything. And I don't want to fucking die! Why am I even considering this?

"You… You could use that photo to change everything right back to when you took that picture. All that would take is for me to…to…" I will myself to stop talking, which results in me seizing up as I try to speak and remain silent.

"Fuck that! No. No way! You are my number one priority now. You're all that matters to me." Max almost seems insulted at the proposal.

 **'Just think about what Rachel would want- She wouldn't care for everyone she's ever known dying in some freak storm.'**

What about Rachel!? She never gave a damn about me! She even screwed Frank behind my back! Frank of all people!

 **'You're still hung up on her, aren't you? Poor Chloe, you can be so spiteful. Even bitchy at times. _Get it_? _Times_?'**

I mean, I get that in times of stress you can become, like, a different person and shit. But this is crazy on a whole other level. I'm arguing with myself in my own head, while trying to convince my time traveling friend to let me get shot and killed in a public bathroom.

"I know… You proved that over and over again… Even though I don't deserve it!" My mouth continues the conversation in defiance.

"I'm so selfish- Not like my mom. Look at what she had to give up and live through, and she did."

Joyce- I mean, mom, never gave up anything! Hell, I practically got kicked out of the fucking house because she didn't give up on step-prick.

The entire world is spinning around me, my stomach jumps and twirls.

I focus all my efforts into saying something. I can sense my throat prep and my mouth on standby.

 **'No. Stop that.'**

My mind blurs even more. I can sense a thousand needles poking and prodding my brain. I feel as if I were a passenger in my own body.

"She deserves so much more than to be killed in a fucking diner! Even… My stepfather deserves her alive. There's so many more people in Arcadia Bay who should live… Way more than me!" My voice is visceral. I notice my shoulders hang slightly. The muscles in my face are contracted to perfectly mimic the best pleading look I've ever mustered.

"Don't say that, I won't trade you!"

"You're not trading me. Maybe you've just been delaying my real destiny?" My voice wavers and breaks at just the right points. I sound so sad and afraid. "Look at how many times I've almost died, or actually died around you. Look at what's happened in Arcadia Bay ever since you first saved me. I know I've been selfish, but for once I think I should accept my fate. _Our_ fate." The inflection is perfect. I don't think I've ever sounded so sincere in my life.

Fuck fate! And being selfish is the only thing that's kept me alive! This is so goddamn mental. Max, _please_ don't listen to me.

"Chloe!" She sounds almost desperate as I feel.

 **'And now, to drive it home.'** It's almost like a worm is wriggling inside my head.

"Max, you've finally come back to me this week, and you did nothing but show me your love and friendship. You made me smile and laugh like I haven't done in _years_. Where ever I end up after this, in whatever reality, all those moments between us where real, and they'll always be ours!"

I can feel some clarity in my head for the first time since this conversation began, I pounce on the opportunity.

"No matter what you choose, I know you'll make the right decision!"

 **'WHAT DID I TELL YOU?'** The pin needles turn into daggers. My mind catches fire and I scream in agony within my own head.

"Chloe! I can't make this choice!"

"No Max… you're the only one that can" My body reaches out and grabs her by the shoulders.

We stare at each other for an eternity.

"Max... It's time."

…

"Not anymore."

She tears the photo in two, and sends it sailing into the wind.

 **'GODDAMNIT CHLOE YOU LAZY FUCK UP! This is your fault!'** My head booms with a voice of pure hatred.

 **'You gave her a choice...'** The tone changes instantly. It sounds… Sad? Defeated?

It sounds strangely like _Max_.

The voice sighs. **'I suppose I can see _her_ reasoning, if nothing else...'**

The few parts of my mind I still control spin around in circles. Do I have, like, that multiple personality thing? Is that something you can get out of the blue?

 **'Maybe I could find a way that doesn't end with you dying…'** Max's voice muses.

Wonderful. I may, or may not, decide to throw myself off a bridge. At least I'm starting to think a bit more clearly.

The pain in my head begins to slowly subside, and the world stops spinning. The needles stop as feeling returning to me, and I become aware of my surroundings again.

"Max… I'll always be with you…"

It's certainly what I want to say. But I'm not sure if I'm the one who says it. I'm so exhausted and confused that the steps I take towards Max almost result in me falling over.

"Forever" is her reply.

She grabs my hand as we watch the storm progress.

...

Before long her head shakes and she hugs me, almost throwing me onto the ground. Her face is buried in my shoulder, leaving me to witness the storm.

The past ten minutes have been more stressful than this entire week combined.

The wind still howls angrily and the rain is a painful downpour. My heart sinks when I notice a plume of smoke coming from the area the Two Whales is in. I can't stop myself from staring as the cyclone makes landfall.

I watch a building collapse in on itself. Is this seriously what I wanted? A thousand people to die? Maybe my... Split personality... Thing... Was right. I mean, I'm certainly not worth a thousand people. A second building topples over.

No. No, I'm not doing this. Not right now. Not only am I on my last legs, but Max needs me to.

A car hurtles through the air and careens into someone's home. Who's Max? Oh, right. Max.

I can't help but find gentle amusement in how addled my own brain is.

Is this the same Max who skipped town on me the one time I needed her? The same Max who hasn't spoken to me once since we were kids? The same Max who threw me aside the moment I became an inconvenience?

This Max sure sounds like a real friend!

The funnel of the storm makes direct contact with a building, it disintegrates. My free hand instinctively makes a fist.

But it's okay! She's been in my life for a whole week and we've had some fun! Like me getting killed repeatedly! Or discovering my dead crush's body!

She'll never pull the same stunt she did before and leave me on my own all over again! She's not like everyone else!

Sarcasm. Real original, Chloe. I just need to calm down. If there ever was a time and a place to not get angry, it would be here and now.

I let out a shaky sigh as the hipster clings to me for dear life.

It feels like an eternity passes. With each ruined home and collapsed building I feel less and less. I can't tell if it's because I care too much and I'm burning myself out, or if it's because I just don't care about the people dying.

After all, why should I give a damn about them if they don't give a damn about me?

I grind my teeth and choke back tears. I need to focus on something else, or else I'm going to drive myself crazy. Probably even crazier than when I just tried to convince Max to kill me.

A drink! Oh, dear god I could use a drink. Even just one beer. Wouldn't mind having a six pack to myself though.

And a smoke! Just one good cigarette would be holy. An entire pack would be divine! Hell, even some weed could do a bit of good here. A grin snakes across my face as I visualize my fantasies.

I snap back to reality as lightning strikes nearby. I let out another shaky sigh.

I gently begin to untether Max from me.

"Max, I don't think we can stay here. If nothing else, we need to get out of this rain."

She nods her head and takes my hand, letting me lead.

I take a step and my legs immediately come out from under me, throwing me into the mud. I hear fabric tearing before a loud bang as my head smacks into a rock.

"FUCKING SON OF A-" Anger immediately takes hold, before I realise Max is crouching next to me, looking mortified.

Yet again I sigh, though at my own quick temper this time, and lack of ability to tell just _how_ _exhausted_ I am.

"Sorry, didn't mean to yell at you." It's difficult to get my voice above the screaming air and deafening roar of rain.

The muddy dirt melts into my pants and my hands get caked in it. There goes any hope of getting comfortable in the near future.

She doesn't say anything, but lets me help her back up after I get on my own two feet. I more firmly plant myself on the ground and make way for the bathroom building just behind us.

Getting in, I can still hear the violent gushes of wind and rain, but it's quieted to the point of where I can actually hear myself think.

I jump up and sit on the sink counter, while Max leans against a wall and grabs her arm. She stares at the ground.

I should probably say something to her, but there's a solid chance I'm even more of a wreck than she is right now.

I clean my hands on my already mud stained pants and and run them through my hair.

"Chloe!"

Before I can say anything, she runs up to me and examines the side of my head.

"Uh...?"

"You're bleeding."

I grunt in amusement. Yes, a giant world ending tornado is less important than a small cut on the side of my head.

… Ugh, I'm terrible.

"I'll be fine Max." I bat her hands away.

Turning around I look at the mirror. The figure staring back at me seems indifferent. Not angry or sad, just muddy and mildly inconvenienced. To Max's credit though, the 'cut' on the left of my head does look kind of bad. A deep red fissure starts at roughly the same height as my eye is and stretches upwards, disappearing into my hairline. It's oozing blood into my blue mop of hair, and my beanie.

Max turns around to and stares at herself. She seems dejected.

I notice that my left arm feels awfully wet. Looking down, I see a small stream of red leaking out from my sleeve, onto my hand and then the counter I'm leaning on.

Not wanting her to freak, I quick wipe away the small pool while she's distracted.

"Yo, I'm going try to clean myself up."

Max is too lost in thought to pay attention, not that there's much to be said.

Hiding away in a stall, I go to take off my coat. Moving too fast, a sharp pain shoot up my arm. Suppressing an instinctive curse, I move slower and more gingerly, paying special attention to my left arm this time.

My jacket's sleeve is drenched in still wet blood. Not to mention that it's shredded. Probably not a good sign. I look at my arm and see a shockingly large tear running from my elbow to my shoulder. My arm is hued crimson red.

"Shit. All this from a fucking slip in the mud?" I mumble to myself. The building strains and creaks under a huge gust of wind. Lightning strikes nearby.

I really hope this isn't as bad as it looks. Last thing I need is to do is get stitches and billed out of my ass for having some overpaid bastard stab me with a needle and thread. Fuck it, bet I could sow myself up better than some pretentious and alcoholic doctor.

I tear out half a roll of toilet paper and wipe my face down, and do what I can to get the bigger blotches of mud and blood out of my hair.

Hey, at least the easy stuff is done.

I carefully pat the gash on my head. There's not much I can do for it, other than try to not make it worse.

I turn my attention back to arm. I tepidly clean off the dirt and copious amount of dark red liquid. Getting a better look at it, it's _a_ _bit_ deeper than I was hoping.

Also, it hurts like a real bitch. Fuck.

I blink several times. Gotta to pep myself up. If not for the sake of Max, for myself.

Okay! So! Massive fissure running down my arm. Need to stop the bleeding. And not get infected. Sure! I've helped people with bad gouges and cuts- and dealt with my own in the past. I mean, it's not like I live the most level headed of lives.

…But I've never had anything this bad... And I've always had someone with me. And I've had some first aid supplies. Not to mention I'm stressed the fuck out and have to worry about Max going into panic mode again, or my alter-ego thing going completely insane and trying to kill me again.

They say one problem at a time, right? Yeah, probably something like that.

Right. I think I saw a first aid kit by the door when I walked in. Probably a few decades old, but it's a first aid kit nonetheless.

God I could use a smoke. My hand automatically feels at my back pocket, pretending that a pack may have just appeared from thin air. And wouldn't be completely water logged.

I get lost in my day dream before Max pulls me back to reality.

"You okay? You're really quiet…" She's as sheepish as ever. I'd almost call it cute if I wasn't on the brink of collapse from exhaustion.

"Yeah! Fine. Listen, you think the weather has died down yet?"

A loud crash as lightning strikes again. Some debris hits our sanctuary and makes a loud clanging noise. The one light still working flickers.

"…No? We've been in here for like five minutes…"

"Fair point."

Eh. Probably a bit sleazy to try and get Max to go outside so I can steal a first aid kit anyway.

Time for a new plan. I carefully put my torn jacket back on.

"Hey did you see a first aid kit here?" I walk out, tilting my bad arm away.

She knows about the comparatively minor one on my head, so it's the perfect excuse.

"Yeah, here."

"Wait, where you going?"

"Well, going by your reaction a minute ago, you have a thing with blood. Annnd I've got a few small cuts and scrapes." Mixing in a truth makes the lie more convincing. Learned that when I was a kid.

Feels a bit weird to use it on Max, though.

She actually seems kind of hurt. "No I don't." She grabs at her arm.

" _Sure_ _you don't_. Plus, I have a thing with people seeing my own blood."

Back in the stall. Ruined jacket off.

"Sure you're okay?"

I can't help but let some exasperation drip into my response. "Fine."

Opening the kit, it's surprisingly well stocked. Maybe this won't be so bad. I mean, I'm still leaking blood like a shitty car and oil, and both are definitely going to scar, but the immediate crisis has been averted.

Fuck it, even the scars are a bonus. Scars are awesome. Score one for Chloe!

I wrap myself in gauze and add in some generic antibiotic.

Unsurprisingly, my little good news streak is cut down when there's another loud crash and the one working light finally dies.

"Ugh…!" I reach in my pocket for my phone. I grasp at one of two solid rectangular masses in it. Pulling it out, I realise my phone hasn't just been ruined, but snapped in half.

"Okay seriously, how the hell does this even happen!?" I shout as I walk out of the stall. While I can't see her face, Max's silhouette tenses up.

"Sorry- sorry. Not shouting at you, at everything else." Her pained expression lessens as I gesture around me.

"Can you use the light on your phone? Mine's… Not doing so hot."

"I- I thought I told you… My phone is cracked." She grabs her arm again and rubs it.

I roll my eyes in the blackness "Well… Hope you're not afraid of the dark."

I feel my way around and jump back up onto the sink counter. "We'll stay here until everything calms down."

There's no reply, but I can sense a nerve wracked stare hover over me as I drift off to sleep.

…..

"So, your father dies."

She pauses for effect.

"And when you need her to return some of the favours you've earned by standing up for her time and again, she just ups and moves off to Seattle?"

"Something like that." My reply is tired and somewhat angry, despite the mild high I have.

"Better yet, she doesn't call or text once. _And_ she ignores all of yours?"

"…Yep." Smoke swirls out of my mouth as I crush out the very last of the joint.

"Now I don't mean to be rude or anything, but going off what you've said, this Max character sounds like a real prick." It's an innocent enough comment.

… But I can't stop myself from taking offense.

"So, I fucking tell you how I constantly stand up for her whenever someone was taking the piss. And then the first thing you fucking say is that she's a god damn prick?" I lean up out of my seat.

"C'mon, Blue. You know I didn't mean anything by it." She throws her hands up in a mock surrender as she gives a sly smile.

"Jesus, Rach. You're tough to stay mad at." I lean back and let out a small grin.

" _Aww_. I'm sure you say that to all the girls you bring back to your junkyard." Her smile grows wider and she bites her lip.

"Now Blue, I hope you know I'm normally not this easy..." Her voice lowers and her eyes gain a special glint when she gets up.

I can't help but get flustered and a pinch nervous. I'm always the one who teases and acts assertive, no matter who it is. That's probably why I like Rach so much- She's worse than I am. Probably also why I also feel so weird around her. The good kind, though.

I've known her for less than two weeks, but we've clicked together better than anyone since… Well, Max and me. Albeit that's not saying much, but Rachel's actually really cool.

"You know, I think getting thrown out of Blackhell is the best thing to happen to me? My rant at David was probably one of the highlights of my life. Bonus points for interrupting him when he was chewing you out, and us meeting for the first time." I try to steer the conversation to something a bit more comfortable for me.

"And if I recall rightly, I said I owe you one." She walks towards me.

I can feel my face turn red. I opt to remain silent to avoid putting my foot in my mouth, and keep what little dignity I have.

She straddles me and says, " _You know_ , for a rebel punk rocker, you're pretty timid."

Her hands feel around as we make out. It's not exactly the first time I've made out with someone. It certainly wouldn't be the first time I've had sex either, not that we've gone that far yet. But something about her just makes me clumsy and uncoordinated.

Nothing's ever felt so right before. I'm _happy_.

…

"Chloe. Hey wake up."

Good bye wonderland. Hello nightmare.

My eyes slowly open to reveal Max in front of me.

I'm pretty sure that I was hit by a truck while I slept. Or, at least that's what it feels like.

"How long have I been out?"

She grabs and shakes her broken phone at me.

"Right… How long since the storm ended?" I say, taking note of the fact there's natural light shining through the windows. And also that the entire building _isn't_ buckling under the weight of the wind and rain.

"About now. I've been up the whole time."

"Jesus how are you not exhausted?"

She gives a half-hearted smile, "Didn't say I wasn't."

I jump off my makeshift counter-bed, and quietly congratulate myself for not collapsing onto the floor. At least my energy is back.

I throw open the door with Max in tow. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the light.

"Woah." The sun is shining down, and there aren't any clouds in the sky. A bird tweets noisily as a deer hides in the woods.

This is some kind of fucked up joke.

I loudly stomp through the puddles and mud, as Max opts to simply walk around them. The route back down to my truck has been washed away, and the two of us can't help but keep slipping and falling.

It actually starts to become funny, with Max and I laughing at each other's expense when we fall. It's kind of heart-warming to see she's still capable of laughing after all this. I was genuinely worried that this would majorly ruin her for life.

Unfortunately, on my fourth or fifth slip, I land on my bad left arm.

"GODDAMNIT YOU MOTHERFUCKING-!" I catch myself mid expletive.

She timidly runs over, as if she was afraid of me, "What's wrong?" If I didn't know better I'd say she feels that me falling was her fault.

"Nothing..."

I try to pull myself up using my left arm to dispel any suspicion, which results in me shouting "FUCK!" and falling back over.

Guess I can't hide anything from Caulfield, detective extraordinaire.

Her eyes resemble a deer in headlights.

"Ugh… I have a bad cut on my arm. That's all."

"Let me see."

"No, it's fine."

"You're not acting like it is."

I know when I'm beat. Max seems calmer than before, so maybe she won't freak.

I take off my jacket, but gingerly unhook my arm from the sleeve. At least the blood hides well in the black.

Max looks unnerved all over again. Guess rolling around in mud for half an hour doesn't dispel a lifetime's worth of anxiety.

I take a look over for myself. At some point it must've started bleeding again, seeing as the gauze is plastered in a dried black-ish red liquid.

"Yes, I know. If it's dirty it's doing the exact opposite of helping." I reach over to undo the wrapping.

"Promise you won't freak?"

"Chloe, I really don't have a problem with blood." I stare her down and tilt my head sceptically.

To her credit, the worst thing she does is cringe as I take it off. At least it hasn't started bleeding again because of my fall.

Taking stock of myself, my beanie does a good job of hiding the blood and mud stains just like my jacket, considering it's black as well. And my wife-beater has miraculously avoided damage from my constant inability to remain upright.

Looking at Max, she doesn't seem too dishevelled as well, with only her jeans having a few stains of dirt.

"See? Fine. NBD."

Max's silence seems to agree.

We step out into a clearing and find my truck.

I throw open and slam shut the door, Max is more delicate as she steps in.

"Moment of truth?" I say as I stick in the key and turn.

The engine sputters and coughs like an elderly pack-a-day smoker before coming back to life.

I turn to Max to congratulate myself but she's holding her knees. I guess she just remembered we need to drive through town to get out of it.

A quick search through my not-very-expansive repertoire of comforting words and phrases turns up nothing of use.

Instead, I just pull away and head for town.

Even before we leave the forest roads, I'm forced to dodge around debris and flipped cars.

Reaching the outskirts near Pan Estates, the area has been devastated. The few buildings still standing aren't buildings so much as ruins that are leaning on eachother for support.

I don't mean to torture Max by staying in town any longer than we need to, but I make the executive decision to stop by my house. I know what I'll find there, but I have to do it all the same.

When we get to my neighbourhood, we start to find bodies. I notice that I'm not really reacting to them. I'm actually somewhat stressed that _I'm not_ stressed by seeing the body of the woman who lived next door to us, laying in the middle of the road.

Max is a different story however. The first corpse we pass, she hugs her legs a little tighter. Second, third, fourth and fifth, she despairs a little more each time.

We finally get to my house, and the scene is consistent with everything we've seen so far. A large and expensive pile of rubble.

My mind lazily drifts to distant memories as we slowly coast by it. When Max and I stole wine. When we used to play pirates. When Joyce introduced me to Step-prick. When I first parked my truck in the drive way. How… How Max acted so weird the day dad died?

Wait. Was that…? My head nearly screws off when I realise it probably was modern Max there and then. How else would she have stopped him from dying and create some kind of fucked up reality that never happened?

I notice that I'm practically strangling the steering wheel. I should probably leave whatever questions that come out of a seperate timeline-thing that never existed for later.

I push down on the gas. Our route out still takes us by the Two Whales, and I need to stop there anyway.

It seems like some people survived. A few of the bodies we pass have tarps and blankets put over them.

Dodge the billboard, drive around the flipped truck, avoid the street with a collapsed building covering the road.

The Two Whales is in ruins. The windows seem to have been blown out, and Frank's RV is crashed into the front door, blocking it off. I almost feel bad about shooting him in the leg. I know my Mom is dead. So is David. Hell, everyone I've ever known is well and truly dead, save Max.

She's changed her position from curled up in a ball to sprawled out, staring out the window.

I ease off the brakes and let the car drift off. Jesus, I suddenly have a headache.

The world acquires a very slight spin. Needles gently prod me.

Max says, **'I hope you appreciate all I'm doing for you.'**

I incredulously turn to her. She better not have just fucking said that. You may have saved my life Caulfield, but no way in hell are you going to make me say thanks for Joyce dying. Uh, I mean my mom. And I know you didn't mean for this to happen. But chill the fuck out.

I look over and see her staring out the window.

Oh.

She meant it sarcastically. Where does a person buy a longer fuse?

I stop the car. Max can't keep railing against herself like this.

I lean over and rub her shoulder. She comes back to life and sits straight.

The car starts rolling again, and my temporary headache drifts off, "Try not to be too hard on yourself."

She sends off a half hearted smile my way.

The truck gains speed until we're driving normally again. Slowly, but surely, there's less and less debris as we leave more of the town behind us.

Ruined stores give way to houses again, before turning to forest.

A sign reads, "Another great day in Arcadia Bay! Thank-you come again!" A picture of a lighthouse and seagull adorn it.


	2. Didn't mean to wake you up

We silently speed on by.

Several minutes go by before I speak up. "So… I guess we should probably get you back home."

She glances at me, but doesn't speak. "Probably a one or two-day drive." I continue.

"So if you've got any money, say it now- we've been needing to stop for gas before we even left town. Not to mention I'm starving."

Still silent. What is she, a mute now? "Once we get back to a real highway we should be able to find a place to stock up."

I mean, are we doing that whole I'm not speaking to you game because you're mad at me or something? "In case you haven't figured it yet, I don't have the money we took from Blackhell. Figured it'd be kind of silly to keep what some would call evidence on me at all times." I lightly punch her shoulder, hoping for a reaction.

Nothing. I'm not trying anymore. My nerves are _way_ too fried to put up with whatever Max is pulling right now.

I step on the gas as we turn onto a major highway. A fleet of four helicopters rush overhead, headed in the direction of home… Er, Arcadia Bay.

Then a small armada of police cruisers, ambulances and fire-trucks scream down the side opposite to us, again in the direction of town. Three news vans and an assortment of sedans, jeeps and coups follow hot on their heels.

The sun is starting to go down. Its outline begins to connect with the horizon. I decide to pull to the curb and check how much money I have for when we do come across a gas station.

Of course, Max doesn't say or do anything.

… A shredded fiver, two tens and a twenty so covered in writing only an idiot would accept it. No credit cards on me because no one is stupid enough to give me one. I'm on top of the world.

I briefly hold my head in my hands. I'm _so_ tired. I need a cig _so_ badly. I _desperately_ want to get drunk.

As I'm lost in my various cravings, I notice a blue and red flashing has engulfed my truck. Looking in the mirror, a police cruiser is parked behind me, and a man is walking towards us.

"Oh come on!" I'm angry, though my voice sounds more desperate than anything else.

As I wait, it suddenly dawns on me I've got half a dozen empty beer bottles in the car. Not to mention it reeks of weed. Fuck.

Heh. Max hasn't noticed or cared yet. I take my jacket that I've thrown in the back and use it cover the bottles. Phase one complete.

As for the weed smell… Oh! I grab my license, and open Max's door, "Follow my lead...!"

I get out of the truck more happily and with more pep than any human in the history of traffic stops.

Before the policeman has a chance to react, "Howdy' officer! License and registration all right here! Say, any chance you know where to find a gas station or motel?"

"Ma'am, get back in the vehicle at once!" His voice booms despite the distance.

"Alrighty!" I clamber back in. Jesus, being a happy ditz is tougher than it looks. Maybe I should go for the nervous wreck… No, too suspicious.

Wait. I have blue hair. And there's a massive gouge on the side of my head. I look like a fucking James Bond villain.

My arm feels wet. Touching it, I realise my wound has started bleeding, again. Fuck! Shit! Why does everything I do have to fucking fall apart!?

I grind my teeth. I look over at Max. She never bothered to try my plan, but she did bother to shut the door.

I notice a liquid running down the side of my face. I don't need to touch it to know it's not sweat. Hell, I probably look more like a zombie by this point than a delinquent or unnervingly peppy Stepford Smiler.

… Now that I look like a serial killer, I can get the luxury of being manhandled by the police and taken back to the station, where they can charge me with having open alcoholic containers or some kind of bullshit.

I can't stop myself from a hysterical laugh.

There's a knock at the window. I smile and bring it down.

"Miss, do not step out of the vehicle unless I tell you to do so."

My expression which most reserve for joy doesn't change an ounce as I vigorously nod my head up and down.

"Now, I'd like to see your license… and..." His eyebrows furrow and he inhales. Guess he's smelling something.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you both to step out of the vehicle."

Just the opportunity I've been waiting for. I go to open my mouth and rant on about how I was already out of it, but Max cuts me off.

"Sorry if my friend is a bit weird or rude officer. We're both having a really bad day." She gets out and grabs her arm. She also shoots me some kind of annoyed look.

I shoot her an angry eye myself and get out. I already know how this is going to end, might as well indulge myself and have some fun. He throws my jacket aside and takes me down to the station. I get busted for drunk driving despite never getting a test done, and possession of a controlled substance when his buddies plant weed in my truck- Because I know for a fact I've smoked everything in it already.

I clamber out after her and the officer has his flashlight trained on Max. She looks like she was thrown in a washing machine with a dozen angry cats. And spent a few hours sitting in mud. Which, to be fair, she did.

His eyes are one of a sceptic. Not a single word she could say would soften his cold, dead heart.

He trains his light towards me, and he stumbles back. Instinctively, I look behind myself, before turning to him. My cheery demeanour and psychopathic smile have both long since faded, leaving my look decidedly unamused. I glance over to Max, who seems horrified.

"What?" I turn back to the policeman and shake my head to show I'm missing something.

"Miss, are you alright? Who did this to you? Are you on something?" He's tripping over his own words. Must be a rookie. Probably why it seemed like he was on a massive power trip before.

That's when it dawns on me that I'm leaking blood everywhere. Stupid wounds don't know how to… Stay closed. Or, something.

I supress an impish grin. I touch my bleeding arm, being sure to cover my hand in blood "What's wrong officer?"

I then touch my neck and _accidentally_ smear it. "Oh! This. I uh…"

I tap my other hand to my head cut, then rub my forehead, feigning ignorance, and bashfulness as I plaster myself. If I didn't look crazy before, I certainly do now. Actually, come to think of it, this is probably how a crazy person acts. A short lived mental battle concludes that I'm way too stressed and deserve some fun. Even if it's in a strange and unusual manner.

"I fell and tore myself up on some glass." I still find it hard to believe I got this messed up by falling on a few sharp rocks, and I'm the one it happened to.

Woah, I'm kind of lightheaded. Maybe I've lost a bit too much between now and the storm.

He looks like I'm playing a cruel joke on him. "If that's the case we should get you to a hospital, you need stitches."

Guess I am playing a small joke on him. Albeit there's no punchline except trying to see if I can weird him out. I think I'm winning. "Thanks for the offer, but I need to get my friend here home to her parents. Not to mention I don't have insurance and couldn't pay anything. Plus it's way worse than it looks."

"I'm willing to bet her parents can wait, you don't need insurance and can ignore the bill collectors if you really can't pay, since they have to treat you. And if it's worse than it looks, why're you swaying side to side?"

What? I'm not… Oh, I am. I lean against my truck for support.

He presses on, "Look, I can't exactly force you to go to a hospital, but I can make sure you're not driving for the rest of the night. Ignoring the fact that you yourself are a driving hazard in your current condition, your taillights are both blown out and the hatch for your truck bed is about to get torn off in a stiff breeze."

"Okay, what if you let me steal some bandages off of you? That way everyone's happy?" I try to ignore the unsolvable problem with my taillights and hatch.

He goes to open his mouth before Max cuts him off, "What if I drive?" She shoots me another annoyed look.

What? I didn't even do anything! And Max, _please_ , I'm pretty sure you can't drive for shit. Not to mention I don't let _anyone_ drive _my_ truck. Good idea to get him off our backs though.

He lets the idea roll around in his head. "When do you think you might get those taillights of yours fixed?"

I pipe up, "First shop we come across." He gives me the universal I-Don't-Believe-You look. Oh, right. I covered my face in my own blood for a cheap (and silent) laugh. I probably don't look like the responsible one here. Bet it's the blue hair.

"We'll get it done officer." She makes eye contact with him and nods her head.

He lets loose an obnoxiously long sigh, "Okay. Fine. But if I ever see you two again with broken lights, or _that one_ driving again" He gestures in my direction. "Douche." I mumble. "You'll be coming with me."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now let me get something for uh… Your friend here." The sideward glance he gives me as he walks away indicates that he thinks I'm completely mad.

I turn to Max with a smile on my face. This is actually going way better than I expected! She doesn't share my enthusiasm though, her eyes are hard and seem like they're trying to set me on fire.

"What?"

Even though it's getting dark out by this point, I can still see her face turn red. She practically hisses, "What is your problem Chloe!?"

"Alright, alright, sorry about the blood thing. Thought I could weird him out enough to make him go away or something."

My reply only incenses her further. "Do you know how many times I had to rewind just now!?" I notice she has a small line of blood dripping out of her nose.

Oh. I'm not quite sure how to respond to that one. Does she want me to say sorry for something that never happened and I didn't do?

The officer comes back before I can come up with a response. He's holding a box. "Okay, so here's some of the basics that can keep you going, until you eventually cave in and get some stitches. If you need me to, I can wrap your arm and cover up your head for you."

"Sure, yeah, whatever you need." I blurt out.

He takes my arm and places the box on the ground. I try to use the ensuing silence to drum up some kind of reaction to Max's outburst, but nothing is coming up.

"Remember to keep it dry no matter what. I'm not sure why they've stopped, but when, _and I mean when_ , they start bleeding again, you need to give in and get those stitches."

"Uh, yeah. Thanks officer." I can't help but sound uncomfortable.

"Have a good day sir, and thank you."

"Drive safe, get those lights fixed and repair your trucks' hatch. And under _no_ circumstances let that one drive." He points at me again. I narrow my eyes at him.

His cruiser pulls away. "You'll probably have to drive for a while Maximus, that dude is totally going to stalk us." I try to wipe off most of the blood I dragged over myself. I'm sure I get most of it.

She doesn't say a word as we get back in. "Okay, what did I even do that was so bad?"

"Well for starters, you punched him in the face."

I do my best to supress a laugh and smile, because I know it'll only succeed in making her angrier. I fail miserably.

"See!? This is what I'm talking about! You don't care about anything and nothing is serious to you! You were never like this when we were kids, what happened to you?"

My eyes almost bulge out of their sockets at that last comment. I start to compose a list of responses. Like for starters, how I actually have always been like this. Just because you never went with me when I felt like causing trouble doesn't mean I didn't do it. At that, guess what, Caulfield. People change.

And what kind of fucking question is 'what happened to you'!? My fucking father died that's what happened! My only friend bailed on me! A psychopathic photographer murdered my crush! I got drugged and abducted! My mother was killed in a giant tornado! My hometown is in ruins! Everything I've ever cared about has either been killed, destroyed, stabbed me in the back, or some fucked up combination of all three! And to top it all off, I've somehow died a dozen times in a single week!

My hands turn into fists.

Max seems to have realised she crossed a line. "I'm sorry." She lets out an exasperated breath, "I didn't mean it like that, meeting the new you is the most amazing thing ever. But it's just that you keep-"

"Caulfield, you're going to stop talking. Then you're going to drive this truck down this highway until you find a motel to stop at." My voice is cold and distant. It's taking way too much effort to not blow up at her.

She clumsily paws at the gear stick. And we start to coast. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Caulfield, I said SHUT UP!" My eyes open wide and I bear my teeth at her when I turn and shout.

She recoils slightly and her hands begin shake on the wheel. She hits the gas a bit too much and she startles herself, making her slam the brakes. She eases off and the truck starts to move normally again.

...

I lean against the door and stare out the window. It's gone from dark when the officer showed up to pitch black. There aren't any stars in the sky, but a few planes drift around. I can barely see the silhouettes of trees in the forest.

Some prick in a coup screams on by as he honks his horn. Max gets startled enough that she slams the breaks again and leans into the curb. For the second time, the truck coasts and turns back onto the road.

I cradle my head in my hands. Why am I even mad at her? It was just an offhand comment, not like she meant anything by it. I look over and she's still shaking.

"Here, pull over. I'll drive." My voice is flat and worn out.

"But what about the-"

"Officer friendly is long gone, and I'm feeling better to."

She visibly tries to think of a counter, but gives up.

The truck stops in the middle of the road this time as Max tries to put it into park. I get out and walk around. Opening the door, I push her away and make her climb over the centre-console.

I slam down the gas, causing the engine to commit to a strange hybrid of roaring, and screaming in agony. Max looks at me worriedly.

I just want to sleep. Take a shower to. And I can't stop thinking about having a smoke. Wish we'd pass by a bar. I think I might also be starving to death.

…

At least watching the trees fly by is somewhat cathartic.

…

I'm calmed enough that I try asking myself some questions. I pick up where I left off and try to figure out why I'm still mad at Max. I did blow up at her over nothing. Sure, the _What Happened To You_ question is a bit inflammatory, but doesn't merit me nearly biting out her throat.

A series of lights pop up in the distance. Civilisation.

Where was I? Oh, right. I grip the steering wheel tighter and look over at Max. She's shrunk into the chair and seems like she's trying to hide from me.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I… I shouldn't have blown up at you like that." She raises her head to look at me. "Shut up, I'm not done yet."

I don't exactly have this conversation planned out, but I need things to be level with Max. Suddenly the engine noise cuts out and the accelerator isn't giving any gas. I look at the fuel gauge and it's decidedly empty.

I lightly punch the steering wheel, "You motherfucker." It's tough to be legitimately angry when you're so burned out. The truck comes to a stop.

I suppose I should be happy that I keep an old jerry can in the cabin. Always knew the wretched thing would be useful. Sucks that it's not filled with anything.

"If you haven't guessed it yet, we're out of gas. I'm going to walk ahead and see if I can't find a station fill this up with." I pull out the hunk of plastic.

"Coming with?" I tilt my head, and force a conciliatory smile with a shrug of my shoulders.

She seems to think before nodding.

I put on my jacket before we get out, and start walking side by side.

After about a minute Max looks at me expectantly.

"I know, I know. Like I was saying." I rub the bridge of my nose.

"I'm sorry for freaking at you. It was uncalled for. I'm still fucked up from today, it was really fucking weird for me. And before you go on about how fucked and insane it's been for you, I get that it's been shitty for you to." My arms flail around as I speak.

"I've never been in that type of situation before. Hell, for half of it I felt like a completely different person."

"You know it's a bad day when you feel like a passenger in your own body." I say, trying to lighten the mood.

We pass under a streetlight and I can see her face is one of concern. I can also see some wheels spinning in her head.

A silence sets in.

She tepidly asks, "Was that when you were…-"

"Yeah. But let's not talk about that, I've been thinking about it all day and the last thing I need is to be more weirded out."

Another silence begins to develop. My stomach groans loudly.

"Ugh, I'm going to starve before we even get to a shop."

"Chlo, have you eaten anything today?"

"No, but you haven't either."

She grabs her stomach.

"I hope you can pay for your own food Caulfield, I've only got like fifteen bucks, unless you can convince the cashier that I'm good for opening a tab."

"I've got a twenty."

"Then I guess we'll feast like queens on some French fries and a smoothie."

Another pause before I speak, "So you never really said what your own life has been like since you left me behind." A degree of bitterness sneaks through what I mean to be more of a probing question.

She immediately grabs her arm. I'd change the subject since she's so uncomfortable, but I do want an answer- A part of me… Well, most of me, for some fucked up reason, hopes she's been just as miserable as I've been. With the exception of Rachel, my life has been a living hell. It'd be nice to know the only person I know who's still alive is just as messed up as I am.

It's obvious that she's been preparing for this in some form. Probably since we first met up and I bailed her out during Prescott's parking lot assault. I asked her then, but she dodged it pretty hard.

"Well… Could've been better, could've been worse I guess."

"Weak Caulfield. You and I both know I'm looking for an actual answer here."

Her face is visibly red as we pass under a streetlight. I smile to myself. She's way too bashful. And easy to call out.

"Well… Surprise, I wasn't exactly the big partying type." She swings her head at me.

"Are you trying to say something Shorty?" I playfully punch her arm.

"Ow. See, that's your problem- You like to hit things way too much."

"Take that back, Maximus!" Another light tap.

"You really think you can beat a time traveller?"

"Uh, _yeah_? Especially when they're named Maxine Caulfield." A gentle one-two combo lands on her shoulder.

"Hey! You know it's Max. _Not_. Maxine."

"Do something about it, _Maxine_." I pretend to dodge and weave.

"Guess you don't get an answer to your questions then."

Well, there goes the wind out of my sails. "Okay, _fiiine_. You win."

"I mostly just hung out the two or three friends I made early on."

Not an unreasonable statement. Hell, it's kind of surprising she didn't branch out more. But I still feel an irrational jealousy well up inside me. It's not that she hung out with other people that's getting to me- I haunted Arcadia Bay with more people than I can count. It's that she called them _friends_. It feels like some kind breach of sacred trust. I only had one friend when she was gone, if I could even call her that.

I know it's nonsensical, but I guess that's why they call it irrational. I need more info.

"Close to anyone?"

"Like we were?" Caulfield replies out of hand. I can feel myself burnup. I hope she said that because that's what she's thinking, and not what she knows I'm thinking. Maybe Max knows me a bit too well.

Thank God it's too dark for her to see my face.

"Not really, no. But me, Fernando and Kristen were… Uh, are, pretty tight."

* * *

I'm so happy Chloe's mellowed out a bit. Even if she did use me as a human punching bag for a few minutes there. The way she flipped out earlier was downright scary. So was the way she talked about being a different person during the storm. I guess we're both a little unhinged.

"I mostly just hung out the two or three friends I made early on." Really just two. But saying two or three hopefully makes me sound like I'm slightly less of a massive loner in the eyes of the punk rocker.

"Close to anyone?" She says after a moment of contemplation. She's obviously asking if I had a steady date. Not that I even had an unsteady one. Or one at all.

I blush when I remember Chloe's wardrobe kiss dare was the closest I've come to doing anything with anyone. Let alone having a relationship. Well, I say remember. It's been constantly on my mind in one form or another.

I decide to sidestep the question in an attempt to preserve whatever standing I have in her eyes. "Like we were?" Her silence says she already caught me out and is waiting for me to come clean- But I persevere.

"Not really, no. But me, Fernando and Kristen were… Uh, _are_ , pretty tight." I dawns on me that I'm doing the same thing I did to Chloe five years ago. I haven't texted them once. Albeit, unlike with Chloe they haven't reached out to me, but the point still stands.

She glances at me. I feel as if she's analyzing my every movement.

" _Fernando_ … He's your… Boyfriend?"

"No, just a guy friend." I need to figure a way out of this conversation.

"Okay. Let me rephrase, any boyfriends?"

Who am I kidding? In the week we've been back together Chloe has seen through every one of attempts to get out of a question. She probably just wants me to admit how much of a hipster loser I am. I'm delaying the inevitable.

"Nah. Most of the guys in Seattle are weird or just unhinged. Or are just the super _Bro_ types."

I look over to her, but it's too dark to make out any features. Though I do notice her eyebrows move in contemplation.

"Yeah, sure, not one of several million guys isn't crazy. How about Kristine, or anyone else?" My heart rate picks up.

"Kristine or anyone else?" I reply dumbly.

"Kristen? Whatever her name was. How about girlfriends?"

"Nope. What, you want to get a bottle and start spinning it?" Woah, that was a pretty good derail. I can't believe I just came up with that.

We've made it into the rest stop centre and mutually walk towards the nearest gas station- Still quite a walk away.

She seems flustered for a second. "Okay Maxington, send a few my way."

"How about I return what you sent at me?"

"Okay, how has my life been for the past five years?"

We pass under another streetlight and I see a pained smile. " _Wonderful_."

"Was I close to anyone?" She continues. "Well, you already know about Rachel. That's about it for me."

"What about Justin?" She seemed like she was on good terms with him back at Blackwell.

" _Who_?"

"Justin? The stoner skater?"

"Oh! Yeah, no. We sometimes hung out together, but weren't exactly friends." She shrugs.

She continues, "As for boyfriends, I think you asked me that a few days ago. Never had anything… uh, serious. Guys are gross." Another shrug, but coupled with a tilt of the head at me.

"Girlfriends?" I press on.

Despite having no light, I can tell she's becoming fidgety. She sighs, "Uh… I guess not, no."

Must be Rachel Amber. I can't help but be a pinch jealous of the two of them. Chloe because she seems to actually live life, and Rachel because I'm floundering in my attempt to not develop a crush on Chloe. I've been failing miserably on that front since her dare, to be honest.

Just a kiss Caulfield. And a dare at that. Plus, she was kind of freaked out when I made good on it. There's nothing there.

Time for a new subject.

Before I can come up with something, Chloe cuts in, "Guess we're here. You know how to work a pump, right?" She reaches into my pocket, pulls out my wallet and takes the twenty in it. I try to get mad at her for having no concept of personal space, but I only blush. "I'll go in and buy a buffet with my fifteen bucks, plus pay for the gas. Use pump number one!" She practically throws the oil can at me, before sprinting into the store.

* * *

I shove the jerrycan into Max and outright run into the store. I need a smoke _so_ badly- I haven't had any in two and a half days. I'm pretty sure that's why I'm losing my mind, and my already short enough temper. Not to mention I wanted out of that awkward conversation.

Going by the fact that I don't have enough to feed the both of us, Max would be pissed if I spent nearly half my budget on a pack. Probably going to have to lift them.

Throwing open the door, I size up the cashier. A bald old man. Definitely going to watch me like a hawk, and know when I'm trying to hide something. Nothing is ever easy, is it?

I pick up the things I'm going to buy first. A few tiny bags of chips, and a soda. I saunter over to the counter and see my opportunity. My brand is right next to the candy. I surreptitiously grab both a pack, and some candy, throwing them in my pocket. If he notices I'm walking out with something, I can just give him the candy.

I hear the door open again and I look behind me. It's Caulfield. And she has a nose bleed. For fuck's sake.

I can only assume something, somehow, goes horribly wrong in my flawless plan. I wait for her at the counter as the old man stares me down.

"Uh, hey Chloe did you get my soda?" She punches my pant pocket where I'm keeping my ill-gotten almost-gains. I flash her the most desperate eyes a human's ever seen.

She taps me again. "Yeah! Right here." Reaching into my pocket is the most painful thing I've ever done. Max, you can not have any idea how badly I need these, and how on edge I am. I mournfully hand them off to her below the counter. I hate you and your good Samaritan nature so much Max. Do you really need to put them back?

She perks up, "Cool. Which number was the pump you're paying for?"

"One…" I sigh out.

She walks out the door. I pay for our garbage and gas, but as I'm walking out the cashier calls out to me, "I hope you know that you're supposed to pay for cigarettes and candy, you blood covered psycho."

Oh, right. I probably am still sort of stained from my weird game with the officer. Do most people confront blood covered psychos by calling them blood covered psychos? Doesn't seem very smart.

I lose my patience and dramatically drop everything on the ground. I shout, "What cigarettes!? What candy!?" as I systematically turn out all of my pockets.

I'm not actually all that angry this time. More depressed that I _don't_ have what he's accusing me of.

He seems shocked at my sudden outburst. I take his silence as an opportunity to gather my crap off the floor. I walk by the same fridge I originally got my soda from, and open it. I take a water bottle and call out to the dumbfounded man, "I'm taking this as payment for the emotional trauma you've put me through!"

He tilts his head and stares at me. Wonder how many times he's had this happen. I saunter out the door.

Wait. Shit! Fuck! I should've grabbed a pack. Why am I so stupid?

Well, too late now. I sombrely walk to Max, knowing I'm going to have to apologise for something I don't even remember happening, and arguably never did.

"I'm sorry… Dunno what I did, but I know I regret it." My apology is flat and half hearted.

She smiles as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the object of my desires. The pack of cigarettes practically has a divine glow. "I'm keeping the chocolate though."

I laugh madly and kiss her on the forehead. "Max Caulfield! The world's latest and greatest time travelling delinquent! You're amazing!"

I lean down and pick up the jerrycan, "Here, I'll take this. I've waited all day, and I owe you one- I can make it another few minutes without lighting up, for the trip back. Probably."

* * *

I try to use all my willpower to stop myself from turning bright red after she kisses me on the forehead. No success, but at least it's dark out and I can walk around the glare of the streetlights.

"Here, I'll take this. I've waited all day, and I owe you one- I can make it another few minutes without lighting up, for the trip back. Probably." The blue haired punk picks up the surprisingly heavy plastic container with ease.

I decide to push my luck. "So you were saying sorry?"

I'm pretty sure I can see her joy fall straight to the ground. "Uh... Yeah. Not sure what made you rewind, but I'm sorry about it."

"Not sure? You didn't have anything on you, and he still caught you shoplifting."

"… Yeah."

"You punched him in the face. Well, I think you did. I didn't have a good view. You also swung at the officer from earlier again."

"Seriously? No way. It's like the universe wants me to attack him."

As if on cue a police cruiser rolls by. The window rolls down, "Saw your truck back up there was abandoned, you two okay?"

Chloe speaks up, "Fine officer, just outta' gas."

"Be safe, fix your truck's hatch, and get your taillights fixed."

He points to me, "And make sure you're the one driving."

He speeds up and drives away. I hear Chloe mutter "Officer Fuckstain" under her breath.

"Seriously, what's your problem with him?"

"I don't like him. Guess it's instinctive. Plus he keeps saying I can't drive my own truck… Anyway, I'll try to keep a cooler head from now on. Sorry that I keep attacking random people." She smiles lamely at me.

She hangs her free arm over my shoulder and we walk in silence.

I jump in the passenger side as she empties the oil can once we get back.

The door swings open and slams shut as Chloe jumps back in. "We'll have to go back to the station to fill up the rest of the tank, you run in and pay him with what we've got left. Pump one, again." She pushes an assortment of coins and dollars at me.

I start to count as she plays with the pedals and ignition for some reason. The engine coughs and sputters back to life. There's an extra twenty I didn't know we had, but it's covered in drawings. Though without it, we'd only have about three bucks left.

We pull in and I get out. When I walk into the store, he looks behind me- probably expecting Chloe.

"You again? Where's the crazy one?" He seems like the kind grandfather type to me.

"I made her wait outside. We ran out of gas and need to fill up the rest of the tank." I smile.

"Alright, how much you got?" I pass off the twenty. He stares at it, then me. He sighs, "Not that it's any of my business, but you don't seem like the type to be friends with her crowd. She's not the good sort."

I awkwardly stare at my feet. "I guess." He's certainly not wrong. In one day she's assaulted two completely random people.

"So how does a good kid like you meet a blue haired, blood stained woman covered in bandages?"

"We used to be friends as kids. I went back to my home town in Arcadia Bay recently were I found her again." His eyes open slightly.

"Oh dear, Arcadia Bay you say? Wow, I'm so sorry. Heard all about it on the news. You're lucky you weren't in there when that tornado struck." He pauses, "Tell you what, take all the gas you need. And maybe pick up something more to eat than just a bag of chips and a soda. Something tells me that you're hurting for money to, going by the fact that you tried to pawn off someone's drawing as legal tender." He hands me an actually usable twenty.

I walk up to the first edible thing I see. A box of donuts. "Can I?"

He smiles as if he were amused, "I just said you can take something, didn't I?"

I thank him several times before walking out. He and the policeman were both awesome, I couldn't get into a fight with them if I wanted to- unlike Chloe.

"C'mon, c'mon Caulfield! Hurry!" She hisses at me.

"What? What's wrong this time?"

"Senile bastard in there let us have way more gas than we had money for. We should get out before he realises it."

I laugh, "Chloe, he knows that. He decided to give us extra. Plus he gave me a box of donuts for free." I hold them out.

"What? But how?"

"Maybe if you don't try to punch out every other person you meet, they might decide to help you." I punch her on the shoulder with my free hand.

She pauses in thought for a minute.

"Weak. We need to teach you to fight. Now get in, I'm hungry and I'm getting headaches by having this pack and not being able to smoke it here."

She steps on the gas and pulls away.

"Think we'll have enough to make it back to Seattle?"

She pulls out a lighter and a stick. "Should have just barely enough to make it." She puts it up to her mouth and breathes in. "Oh God, I hella needed this." Leaning back into her chair, "So what do you do, Maxington?" She cracks the window open and lets out some white smoke.

"What do I do?"

"Yeah, I never asked you before. Like, what do they call it…? Your vices."

"Uh. I take pictures?"

"No, no, no. Like, I'm willing to bet you don't smoke weed, right?"

"Not really, no."

"And you definitely don't use cigarettes. Do you drink?"

"Sometimes, I guess." A lie. I haven't had an ounce to drink since I hung out on the Freemont Troll with Fernando and Kristen forever ago. They were wasted, but I only had a slight buzz. Too worried about looking stupid then. And too worried about saving face with Chloe to tell the truth now.

"Ha! I knew it! MegaMax, we totally need to get you to a bar. It'd be awesome to see you let loose for once."

Guess I dug that hole for myself. I'll worry about it later though. I yawn.

"Yeah… I'm exhausted to. Mind if we give up on that whole motel thing? I could really do with some shut eye- you cool sleeping in here?"

"Can I eat?" I tap the chocolate bar in my pocket.

"Oh right!" Her eyes light up. "You were hella awesome and scored us some bonus free food! I call donuts!"

We don't really have time to talk as we devour what little we have.

At some point, I slip into a food coma.

…

The Two Whales is lovely. Joyce is humming along to the Juke-Box. She walks around and drops a plate at my table.

"Thanks so much for everything, Hun. You're like a second daughter to me."

My stomach lurches. "I'm sorry Joyce. I'm so sorry." Tears begin to well up inside me.

She looks confused. "For what, dear?" She disappears.

The sun sets and it's pitch black outside. Chloe marches in. She's angry.

"Why the fuck did you leave me like that? What did I ever do to you?"

Mark Jefferson appears from thin air. He speaks up, "I've got say Max, even by my standards that's positively heartless. Maybe a time out in my dark room will help you learn about what she's going through? Perhaps I could even learn from you at the same time. After all, you're so much better than I am. I never killed a thousand people by just waving my hand."

"Fuck it. She's not worth the breath. _Max_ is just some child." Chloe speaks with venom.

No. Please. Not again.

The tape wraps around my legs and arms. I struggle.

An insidious smile grows on her. "The only reason I've bothered to hang out with you at all is because you're like my puppet. I say jump, you ask how high. I say reverse time, you ask when."

She walks behind me and whispers in my ear. "It pathetic how badly you're crushing on me. Why would I ever want someone like you?"

The lights in the dark room are too bright.

Chloe briefly kisses Rachel. She throws her down on the couch and climbs on top of her. They begin to make out.

Jefferson takes a photo of me. "Pity you'll never have that."

I'm back in the Two Whales. Cars are speeding by at impossible speeds. People zoom around. The sun rises, and sets before the moon comes out. The process repeats.

I watch myself walk out of the bathroom with a mixture of hatred and joy on my face. She calmly walks over to me as the chaos unfolds around us.

"Don't you just wish you were somebody else?"

I struggle at the tape.

"You poor thing." Her face is smugness incarnate.

The conceit turns to rage as the diner's doors swing open yet again.

I hear the car door open.

…

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up." Chloe whispers as she gets in.

* * *

Max passes out from eating too much. I grab my bottle of water and opt to go outside and finish off my smoke.

The air is cool and breezy. The trees I can see waver in the wind. I take a long drag and lean against the truck.

"Now what?" I speak to myself.

"Get Max back to her parents, and then what happens?"

"They let me stay for a week, before I get into argument with someone over nothing and get kicked out."

"Or I stay for a month, then I out wear my welcome, and get asked to leave after way too many hints."

"Max wouldn't let that happen."

I grunt in amusement at my own hopeless optimism. "Max would totally let that happen."

"No matter what, I still need to get her back home. She's saved my life a few times now. Not mention she ignored _me_ when _I_ tried to convince her to kill me. I owe her that much."

"Maybe there's some kind of relief fund for the survivors? Could maybe pay for food and gas with that money, at least for a while."

"Probably could, but they'd want a dozen forms of identification and video proof I was there when it happened. All I've got is my driver's license. One that's going to expire pretty soon anyway."

"Could maybe head south to Mexico. Supposed to be super cheap to live there. Pay my through the US doing odd jobs."

…

"Getting off track. Focus."

"Won't Max freak if I try to leave?"

"Nah. She doesn't really care about me. She's got her own life in Seattle, she said so herself. Kristina and Ferdinand are part of her group. Hell, she even drinks now. New Max has her own life. Her own thing."

"Even if she does freak, what's the alternative? One way or another we're going to go our separate ways all over again. Might as well do it in the middle of the night without anyone screaming, shouting or crying. Tear it off like a band-aid."

"Plus I should learn my lesson. First with Max, then Rachel. No sense in it happening with Max again. Everyone cares, until they don't."

I feel tears well up in my eyes. I stay quiet as I think to myself.

I don't want to be alone all over again. I can't deal with getting left behind either. Fuck.

Everyone I know is dead. I'm out in the middle of fucking nowhere. I have three dollars to my name and a shitty beat up truck. How is my life so miserable?

"No. Nope. Not doing this." I need to stop thinking. Can't I just turn off my brain or something?

I throw my cig on the ground and stamp it out.

"Should probably try to clean myself up."

I take off my torn jacket and wife beater as I unscrew the water bottle.

"Fuck!" I yelp, when I realise I still have David's gun tucked in my waist. Thank god that Officer never searched me. Need to figure out a place to hide this later.

I pour the water bottle onto my face and try to scrub away the dried blood. Ditto for my neck.

"Ugh, it's cold to. Probably the closest thing I'm going to get to that shower I've been needing until I get to Max's though."

I let the increasingly frigid air dry me off before I put my tank top and jacket back on.

Opening the door, I see Max's head lean up.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up."


	3. How to avoid your fears

**Hi all, I got an idea from a few other FFs' and figured I'd add a good track to listen to after reading (Or during if you're that good at multitasking and ignoring loud noises) that happens to fit the feel of the chapter, or simply sounds good and it strikes my fancy; 'I'm not a Good Person' from Pat the Bunny: watch?v=PMyDK3VHYPw**

I grunt and plop my head back down on the arm rest. I hope these nightmares don't become a regular thing. Back when Chloe was getting me to the lighthouse in the storm and now again- They just feel so real. And _so_ terrifying.

"Hear anything?" Chloe sounds on guard as she settles back into her seat.

"No, did you?" My anxiety starts to kick me out my grogginess.

"Nah."

"Then why ask?" The conversation has me fully awake now- For better or worse.

"Chill, just didn't think the door was enough to wake you."

Makes sense. The nightmare was horrible, not that she knows about it. "You did swing it open, and slam it, with everything you had."

"Sorry." She says insincerely.

"… I'm going to sleep again." Honestly, I'm a bit afraid to sleep, but I'm just too tired.

* * *

Caulfield closes her eyes again.

I take David's gun and throw it under my seat.

I really hope she didn't hear me talking to myself. I'm pretty sure she didn't though- Max may not be confrontative, but she totally would have said something.

I decide to try and get comfortable before sleeping myself. With Max laying in her seat sideways and her head towards me- stealing the centre console for a pillow, I opt to throw one leg over the same divider, into Max's side before putting my other up on the dashboard. I lean back and put a hand behind my head for head support.

…

"We need to get out of this shitty fucking town." I feel at the black and blue David gave when he hit me.

Still don't know why I didn't hit him back. Sure, probably was going to lose what ever fight came out of that, big bastard is a former soldier, but I doubt it'd keep happening if I hit him back.

I continue on, "We've been planning this for how long? Let's just get in my truck, grab some food and clothes, then fuck off to L.A.! You've always wanted to be a movie star, let's make it happen!"

I turn to her expectantly and jump off the railway tracks.

She grabs the back of her head and squirms. "… Yeah Blue. But um… Well maybe we should have more money to ourselves before heading out?" She freezes in place.

"I know Frank would spot me some money. He'd totally expect it back, but we can just skip out him before that." She used to be so eager about this, why does it feel like she's been backing out as of late?

"I thought your truck needed some maintenance?"

"Rachel. Please. That old thing's built to last. Doesn't need that crap- plus it'd only cost like fifty bucks and an hour if it did."

"Well anyway, what's the story behind that blackmark on your face?" She's dodging the question way too hard, though her tone also sounds sincere.

"Like you would care." I let irritation get the better of me.

"Woah, cool down. What's wrong?" She comes closer and closes the gap between us.

"Dude, we're spending less and less time together. What the fuck do you think is wrong?" I shove her away.

"What are you talking about?" She steadies herself. Her face is plastered in confusion before turning to a mixture of sympathy and pity. "Chloe- I thought we talked about this… We're just friends." She opens her palms and holds them out, being as placating as possible.

What? No, why's she so stubborn about not leaving? It's not that I don't know about being 'just friends'. She made certain I was well aware of that back when we first started fooling around, how can I be angry about that?

I guess I'm mad about that to. No, I mean I'm not mad about that.

Fuck. Shit. _Okay_ , I'm mad about both.

… I hate being read like a book.

"Yeah, no, I know." I sound thoroughly unconvincing. "It's just that we've been talking about leaving forever. Why haven't we just done it?"

"I don't know, Blue." She sighs. "But you're right, it's been a while since we've really hung out. The Vortex club is having a party tonight, maybe you want to come and meet some of my friends for once? You exclusively hang out with the skater crowd- and that's only when I drag you with me."

"No. Well, I don't know. Maybe the next one? I need to destress, and spending time with a bunch of entitled rich kids isn't the way to do that."

"Considering I've never gotten a 'maybe next time' from you, I'll call this a victory. Next Vortex party you come and we make up?"

"Deal."

"Cool. You never said what was going on with that bruise by the way."

"It's nothing."

Rachel flashes me a concerned pair of eyes, but lets it drop.

…

"Ow. Chloe, get up. Chloeee!"

I stir from my dream. The sun has only just begun to come back around again, the sky is a purplish blue. A bird noisily tweets. A deer hides behind a tree.

"Mhmm. What?"

"You're killing me."

I let my eyes process the scene. At some point in the night it seems that I decided Max's head made a good footrest.

"Sorry." I manoeuvre myself so that I'm sitting normally. "You 'K?" I twist the keys and start the engine.

"Yeah. It's cold though."

"Tough. Don't have blankets and the heater's busted, just got the clothes on your back. Or in my case, the clothes falling off my back." I play with the big hole in my jacket.

I let the car move on its own. Max stops leaning over and sits like a normal human being to. "You need to change your bandages or something?"

"Not unless they're covered in my own blood again." I press the gas and get up to speed, "Keep an eye open for a payphone somewhere, there has to be some still around- and your parents are probably freaking."

"I'm pretty sure they actually went out of their way to get rid of those to be honest."

I take out and light a cigarette.

Max glances at me, but doesn't say anything. A minute goes by before she speaks up, "Doesn't using something in a time of stress, like, make you more likely to depend on it during normal life?"

I look over to her. "Probably, yeah. I really hope you're not about to start preaching. And yes, I'm at least _slightly_ stressed right now." I sound like someone who hasn't had their morning coffee.

"Sorry. I guess after the first hundred people it can get annoying." A sheepish smile comes out of her.

I sigh. "Had a good dream?"

"Uh… Yeah, definitely."

"Good. Mine fucking sucked." Wish I could just forget all my memories.

The highway is no longer deserted as a few cars travel with us.

She seems lost in thought.

I take a drag and say, "So, what's your home like?"

She snaps out of it. "Oh, uh, me and my parents have a big house."

"Think you can guide me to it when we get near it? I just know what vague direction to go to get to the city."

"Sure, it's in the Lower Queen Anne area."

"Wait, I thought we were going to San… Er, Seattle?"

She smiles at me, "Queen Anne is in Seattle, it's just over the bridge from Fremont and the Troll, and Lower Queen Anne is near the Down Town area."

I have no idea what she's talking about. "… Okay." I press on the gas and cut someone off to make a turn. We should be getting pretty close to Seattle by this point.

A silence develops.

She goes to open her mouth again but decides against it. She does this twice more.

I figure she's got something to say, but is stopping herself- Guess she'll tell me on her own time. "So what're your parents like? Haven't seen them in a while to say the least." I use one hand to take a drag and the other to play with the radio.

She squirms in the chair slightly, "They're good. Not much has changed with them." Static pours through the tinny speakers.

"How'd that job work out for your father? I think he worked in insurance or something, right?" I keep twisting and turning the dials to get something.

"It's good. He got promoted after they hired him."

The thought of Max living life up in Seattle hurt. Friends, family, a big city to explore. Everything I ever wanted. The thought of her living life up in Seattle without care for money is just adding insult to injury.

I accidentally tear off a dial. And I wind up slamming the radio in response, causing the static to cease entirely. I hit the horn at the car in front of us for driving too slowly, as I tailgate him.

I angrily sigh and suck on my cigarette for dear life. Max sits in silence.

…

Several minutes go by before I open the window and flick my cig out. I've managed to slightly calm down. "So… Got any plans when you get back?" Awkward forced conversations for the win.

"Tell everyone I'm alive, I guess."

* * *

"Tell everyone I'm alive, I guess."

Chloe doesn't say anything in response.

I briefly consider asking her if she has… Uh, feelings for me, but I couldn't bring myself to do it five minutes ago- before she started to get her rage on, I'd hate to see her reaction now. Not that I'd even know how to ask.

I look out the window. We're passing through some small town- Chloe's been driving directly North rather than take a route that goes through Portland.

We sit in silence.

As more time goes by, the other cars become more frequent. We go over a bridge. Suburbia begins to appear. We transfer off the normal highway onto a massive eight lane beast. Must be around seven or nine o'clock.

We pass by the Seattle airport. A police car pulling someone over. Train tracks, a series of industrial buildings. The traffic picks up. A plane soars by us as it starts to land.

The truck follows the highway as it curves. The Seattle skyline comes into view.

I look over to Chloe who's staring intently at it. I think she even goes a bit slack jawed.

I begin to tell her where we should turn off and where to go.

* * *

"No, no- Right here..!"

I catch myself gawking at the skyscrapers again. I swerve the truck to make Max's sudden turn. Someone beeps at me for cutting them off.

"This is so hella cool Maximum. So you live here?"

"Sort of. Queen Anne is right next door to all this- it's mostly normal houses and apartments."

We turn off the highway and into the streets.

"I have no clue where I'm going."

…

I'm fairly certain that I break more traffic laws in the span of time between when we get off the highway, and when we get to the street Max's home is on, than I have in my entire life. It's quite the accomplishment.

That aside, it's weird looking at Max's house as we pull up. Ignoring the contrast to the big city, and what I expected it to look like, this is where she spent the past five years of her life.

It's a two-story house. The siding is white. Neighbourhood seems upper-class to say the least. My beat up old truck seems to _slightly_ stand out. As I get out I notice a middle-aged man staring at me from his nearby apartment's porch.

The storm happened early yesterday morning, making today Saturday. Meaning her parents probably know what happened. Which means there's a good chance they aren't even home and have left for Arcadia Bay. I stand by the truck on the street side as Max runs up to the door. She presses the doorbell several times.

She turns and looks around before aiming in my direction. She motions me to come to her.

Before I can react the door is nearly thrown off its hinges as a large bearded man runs out and hugs her. Her dad, I presume. He's followed by a thin brunette who hugs the two as well. I can tell the two have been crying by her ruined makeup, and his red eyes.

I lean back against the truck. My breathing quickens and I grind my teeth. I fucking hate Max so much. Her perfect parents, her perfect friends, her perfect home. Her perfect life. Mine has fucking gone down in flames- Not that I even had one.

My blood feels like it catches fire as I make a fist.

I shakily grab another cigarette and light it. The subsequent drag is the longest and most satisfying of my life, but it's not enough.

I look on at the trio. Max gestures towards me and the man kneels down to her level before patting her on the shoulder. He gets up and begins jogging in my direction as the woman embraces her again.

His smile is wide and sincere. Which only incenses me further. I smile through clenched teeth. "Chloe Price! My God!" He grabs my hand and begins to shake it vigorously. "I haven't seen you in forever- look how much you've changed!" He goes to hug me, but I step out of the way.

He pauses and a puzzled look descends on him. Confusion turns to concern as he says, "Oh. Oh my God, I'm so sorry about what's happened." He pauses. "Please, come inside." He puts a hand on my shoulder.

The Mrs. Has disappeared inside, but Max is waiting for me at the door. "Chloe, I'm going to take a shower, is that alright?"

"Yeah. 'Course." My voice is angry, though blended with a polite tone. I grab the cigarette between my fingers tighter.

She walks deeper into the recesses of the house as her father guides me into the living room.

"Thank you so much for bringing Max back to us. She says you helped get her out of there." It takes every ounce of my will to keep an expressionless face and not flip out. "I can't imagine what you're going through. I don't know how things are looking for you, but I'd be honoured if you stayed with us- if nothing else, at least until we can get you on your feet."

He goes to continue speaking but a woman's voice calls out of the kitchen, "Ryan dear, can you give me a hand in here?" He seems thrown off, and holds up a finger, asking for a minute as he walks through a door.

The walls are thinner than they think. She whispers, "What're you doing asking her to stay?"

"What do you mean what am I doing? She saved Max's life. Got her in her truck _in the middle of the storm_ and got her out of town"

"Since when am I the one who's concerned about safety? Just look at her."

"Just look at her?"

"She's covered in tattoos, has blue hair, is in a mess of bandages and is currently smoking in our living room. Do you have any idea how long that smell will linger?" I smugly take a long drag after hearing that.

"Vanessa, this isn't some random woman off the street. This is Chloe Price- Heck, before we left she was practically our second daughter."

"Before we left we were barely making ends meet in a tiny dead-end hick town five years ago. Who knows who she's become and what she's capable of."

"You're talking about my hometown there. And Max obviously thinks highly of her."

"Max doesn't know what's good for her. She's only a kid. This woman isn't staying."

"Oh God, here we go again. 'This woman' is staying as long as she needs to, days or years. And Max is a legal adult. That's final."

I can hear her scoff even from here. "Do you seriously think you can just say 'that's final' and it automatically ends the argument? Who do you think you-"

"Mom? Can you come here for a minute?" Max calls out from somewhere above us.

"… This isn't over Ryan." I hear her go up a set of stairs.

He opens and steps through the door again, with another wide smile.

"Sorry about that!" His faux-happy demeanour dies and he stares at me quizzically. "Uh, are you okay, Chloe?"

I haven't calmed down much at all and I only stare him down. A slight trickle down my face catches my attention. "Yeah. That happens sometimes."

As if on cue I feel blood also trickle down to my hands. I raise it up it in display.

"We should probably get you to the hospital for that…"

"You're the third person who's said that to me. Maybe I should." I try to stop myself from clenching my teeth.

"Great, and it'll give us some time to talk!" I shouldn't have said anything. "Max! Van! I'm headed out with Chloe! We'll be back soon!"

I start to walk to my truck. "Where you going?", he says.

"… My truck?"

"Here, we'll go in mine. I'll drive."

He strikes me as the type to hold his ground and not take 'no' for an answer. Especially after overhearing the _polite_ conversation with his wife. Best to just save my breath.

I crush the butt of my cigarette, and get in his black SUV without a word.

Need to try and chill out. Take deep breaths.

I should totally be happy for Max. My best friend. Why wouldn't I want her to be happy? To have everything I've ever wanted? Fucking hell, she has more than I ever could have dreamed of- Controlling time isn't something I even bothered to put on my list of hopeless pipe dreams.

The engine starts cleanly and we begin to drive down the road.

The man speaks up, "So do you think you'll be heading back to Arcadia Bay to help with the recovery efforts?"

"Figure I'd actually jump out on it altogether. Maybe head to Mexico tomorrow." I opt to be truthful.

He laughs. "I didn't know you were on the run." A pause. "But seriously, if you'd like to, please stay with us until you get on your feet. I can't imagine what you're going through, but before we left you were like a second daughter to us. Heck, maybe if not for your sake, do it for ours- I know Max would love having you stay with us, and her having another friend would be great."

I briefly weigh the consequences of saying 'go to hell' and 'sure, why not'. I decide against both a keep quiet.

"We should at least get in contact with the recovery teams so that you're on the list of confirmed survivors."

"..."

"So how did you get those bandages?"

"…"

His optimistic smile dies when he realises I'm probably having a bad day.

"I fell on some rocks."

A hopeful glimmer comes back. "Ouch. Not surprised though, had a friend who fell just the wrong way a week ago and broke his arm. Kind of weird, how fragile everything is."

A silent chasm begins to fill.

"Want the radio on?"

"Sure."

He flips to a station playing rock.

"So how've you been for the past few years?" Jesus, can this guy not fucking talk for two minutes?

" _Wonderful_."

He smiles to himself, "… Remember back when I used to call you Fiend?"

I bite my tongue as I involuntarily go back into old memories. Sitting in their backyard. Getting yelled at by her mother for breaking a glass. Drawing pictures in Max's room. Ryan pretending to get mad at me for playing a prank on him with a few bang-snaps.

Well, prank isn't the word for it. I just threw a fistful at his feet when he wasn't looking. He first started calling me Fiend then, probably about a year or two before they left.

"… Yeah."

He pauses, then sighs. "When I first decided to take the job out here, I felt like I was making the worse decision of my life. Even now, despite what's happened, I still feel like it was a mistake."

"No kidding."

He smiles softly, "When you get old, you start to realise your mistakes- even as you make them."

Tears suddenly begin to well up in my eyes.

I choke them back. "I hate being old."

* * *

"Mom? Can you come here for a minute?" The muffled voices die down.

I hear marching up the stairs. Footsteps in the hall. The door opens. "Hey sweetie, what's up?"

"Where are all the towels?"

"Oh! Uh, I moved them over here in the hallway closet."

I follow her out.

She brings out her best chipper voice, "So I see you've met Chloe again!" She open a door and hands me a towel.

"Yeah, it's amazing to meet her again. She's changed so much."

Mom's eyes seem to narrow.

I hear my dad call out, "Max! Van! I'm headed out with Chloe! We'll be back soon!"

She looks exasperated.

"Don't worry Mom, I'm sure they'll be back soon. He's probably taking Chloe to the hospital for stitches, she got hurt pretty badly and has been needing to head there."

"'Course, Precious. I'll be down stairs if you need me."

I turn on the shower and step in. It feels so good to let the warm water to rush over me.

So why haven't I asked Chloe if she's into me yet? I start to grill myself.

Because she's been through a massively traumatic experience.

 **'Liar.'**

I feel sick and my brain feels like it's melting.

… Because I don't know how to ask it.

 **'Partial truths don't count.'**

… Because I'm worried she might think I chose to sacrifice Arcadia Bay and everyone she's ever known because I have a crush on her.

 **'And what happens then?'**

She hates me for the rest of her life…

I throw my hands on the wall and lean against it. I feel horrible, in every sense of the word.

…

"BackToTheMax! Yo! How long have you been in there?"

Chloe?

"Uh…!"

"Come on out! I'm bored and want my best friend!"

How long have I been in here?

"Just a minute!"

I suddenly stop feeling so bad.

* * *

I jog up the stairs. It was really cool for Ryan to pay for my visit. Not to mention that he's really good at making someone feel not shit. If I didn't know better, I'd almost say he actually gives a damn about me.

In fact, I _don't_ think I know better. He seems genuinely nice. Kind of weird, but also comforting. I'm certain my good mood and optimism will die hard and fast soon enough, but I might as well enjoy it. Hell, he even gave me a hundred bucks to spend on clothes, gas and whatever else I need.

Apparently Max has been in the shower since we left. Second door on the left. This should be the door Vanessa was talking about.

She, on the other hand, I quite dislike. Even trying to ignore the conversation I overheard, she barely manages to hide her contempt for me. Come to think of it, before they left town, Vanessa hated me. She'd always find a reason to start shouting or yelling at me for no reason. Some people are just pricks.

I briefly consider going in to scare Max, but decide to yell obnoxiously instead. "BackToTheMax! Yo! How long have you been in there?"

"Uh…!"

"Come on out! I'm bored and want my best friend!"

The shower stops. "Just a minute!"

"Hurry! Your old man gave me some money and it's burning a hole in my wallet!"

The door opens and a water-logged brunette wrapped in a towel hides behind it.

"Damn girl, don't be so modest. If you got, flaunt it."

The look on her face is priceless. Teasing her is too fun.

She makes herself blush. I laugh and punch her shoulder as I get out of her way.

"So want to show me around? I need to do some shopping. Your dad also extended an offer for _moi_ to stay in the guest room!"

She closes what I assume is her bedroom door behind her. She speaks through it, "You sound as if you're surprised."

Guess it's my turn to feel embarrassed. "No, but it is still super cool of him." I gather my thoughts. "I'm kind of mad you didn't even notice my bandages are gone." I place my hands on my hips and sassily posture at the door.

"I did!"

"Uh-huh. To do that your eyes would have to be above my chest." … Wait, no. I meant for that to be a dig at her height. Well, still funny either-or. A bit more so if done the other way, actually.

A pause. "S- So how much do you have to spend?"

"One hundred bucks! Might not be Blackwell _disability_ fund good, but it's a damn fine start."

The door clicks back open. She's wearing a hoody and a t-shirt with a picture of a dog.

"By this point, I think you need the money more than I do. Do you only have hoodies and cheesy t-shirts?"

"… Yes." She tries to not smile.

"Ugh! Let's go!" I grab at her hand, but she moves away.

"Wait! Give me a minute, Frankenstein. I'll be down in a few."

I roll my eyes and jump down the stairs. Vanessa is still sitting in the kitchen, reading a book. The oven clock says it's late in the afternoon.

"Hi Mrs. Caulfield." I start to circle her.

"Chloe! My, I don't think we've spoken more than those two quick words a minute ago. How're you holdin' up?" She puts the book down and looks at me.

"Fine."

She spins her head around as I orbit.

I stop sizing her up as I hear Max come down.

"Chloe?"

"Over here! Making new friends!"

She comes in and grabs my arm before pulling me away. "Bye mom, going to take Chloe shopping."

"Wait Max, take this before you go." The older woman gets up and presses some money into her hands and immediately starts to walk away.

"Oh, no, it's okay mom, dad already- Ow!" Max looks at me after I smack the back of her head.

I whisper, "Dude, don't talk someone out of giving you money! Are you crazy?"

Vanessa stops and turns around, "What was that, dear?"

"Nothing mom!"

I grab her and lead her out the front door.

"You didn't need to hit me so hard."

"Quit yer' crying, baby."

She makes an angry face. I respond with a frown.

"So where are you taking me?" I say after a second.

"Centre of the neighbourhood has a few shops and stores. Probably some stuff for you there. Let's walk"

"Cool! Lead the way, ReMax."

I amble and drift around the sidewalk as I follow alongside her. "So how much did Mother Dearest pay you off with?"

She proudly holds up five twenties. Jesus, these people are rich.

"Did your stitches hurt?"

"Nah, doc said they're going to scar over though. Blathered on about how if I'd gone in sooner that wouldn't happen."

"Well you should've."

"Shut it busybody. Says the ones on my head should come out on their own, but I need to go in for my arm in two weeks. And scars are cool."

"Scars are cool." She agrees.

In the corner of my eye, a woman holds her hand to her mouth. She starts to run over, and is followed by a man.

"OhmyGodMax!" She yells, then hugs Max. The guy stands a few feet off with his eyes wide open.

"We heard about what happened! How did you get out?" He then speaks.

I can feel my happiness and good vibes get sapped by the very ground beneath my feet. These must be some of the people Max traded me in for. I take out and light yet another cigarette, the gentle kick of nicotine helps me to not lose my cool. I flash the guy an evil eye as he looks at me. My teeth grind. I'm probably going to be a regular pack a day-er at this rate.

Max untethers herself. "Remember how I'd always talk about Chloe when I first came over? Uh… We… We were half way to Portland when the storm struck."

When you first came over? So, you did forget about me.

The two look around as if they can't see me. I decide to close the already short distance between Max and I to remove any doubts that I'm Chloe. "'Sup."

Max doesn't seem to have picked up that the two don't seem to like me yet. She simply smiles as the two look at me and her incredulously.

"So I guess the two of you are Ferdinand and Kristina?"

* * *

"So I guess the two of you are Ferdinand and Kristina?" Chloe looks like a human attack dog.

She's holding her cigarette in one hand, and the other is a fist. Not to mention I can tell she's grating her teeth. Her eyes are angry and unflinching.

Fernando scratches the back of his head. "Actually, it's Fernando and Kristen..." They both look uncomfortable.

Her posture doesn't exactly indicate she's feeling friendly. Not to mention the stitches visibly crisscrossing her arm and side of her head aren't helping things. The in-your-face blue hair, and still mud stained pants are probably adding to her intimidation factor to.

She takes a sudden step towards them.

Please don't kill my friends. Please don't my friends. Chloe please calm down.

She blinks twice before looking at the ground. Then back up at the sky. She puts her cigarette at her mouth, before dramatically exhaling a thin white smoke. A glance to both sides of her, she then throws it down on the floor. She crushes it while loudly sighing.

She gives a tight-lipped smile. "Alright then Fernando and Kristen. Nice to meet you. I'm Chloe." She puts her weight on her back leg and lets her arms drift at her sides. Both her hands are fists now. One of them slightly twitches out of anger.

Kristin breaks the silence, "We've heard so much about you from Max!"

"Mhmm. And what was that?"

She starts beaming, "How you'd always stick up for her against bullies and were her closest friend." She then frowns, "I kept telling her how she should call you, but she said it would only hurt you to stay contact if you were so far away."

Jeez, Kristen, way to throw me under the bus. And in less than a minute of meeting Chloe.

She stands and thinks about what Kristen just blurted out.

Apparently, it's to her standards and she relaxes.

"So how's old Maxine doing in lovely Seattle?"

"Wait, she lets you call her Maxine?" Ferdinand looks like he's just heard the biggest affront of his life. I constantly corrected him for over a year until he started getting my name right.

"No." Chloe smiles as she looks at me.

"Not giving you the satisfaction, Chloe."

She tilts her head and feigns annoyance. "I'm sorry MaxiPad."

"Back handed apologies don't count."

Her eyes roll.

* * *

I roll my eyes.

Fernando speaks up again, "I'd be happy she's even acknowledging you. She just pretends I don't exist when that happens."

Kristina step forward, "Yeah, Max has to totally love you- I thought she was gonna flip when I first called her Maxine. Also the last time I made that mistake."

I grin, "Aww! I always knew you loved me, Maxine." I can't tell if she turns red from anger or embarrassment, so I decide to change gears. "So how're the local bars? MiniMax fessed up that she drinks- and I'm not getting the clubber or partier vibe from her."

Fernando raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

The local time traveller seems nervous. "Well anyway, it's my responsibility to show Chlo' around. Talk to you guys later?"

"Totally! And send us a text some time? It's like you dropped off the face of the Earth when you went back." Kristina is a bit too perky for my liking- I don't like her. Not in the _I-Hate-You_ way, but the _I-Don't-Like-You-Being-Friends-With-Max_ way. If that is a way.

"Will do once I get a new phone."

"Broke another one? Well, how about you, Chloe?"

I reach into my pocket and pull out one of my phone's halves. "I have one too many, so you can keep it if you want."

"Oh... Well, I live in Capital Hill, but Fernando is Max's neighbour, so we'll totally be able to find each other again." Fernando?

Max pulls at my arm, dragging me away and leaving them behind.

Ferdinando waves as I get dragged off. I like him less than Kristina. He doesn't seem like a bad person, a lot like Kristina- I just don't like him. Like, at all.

The only reason I was on edge earlier was because they caught me at a bad time, is all. I don't have any weird issues with Max knowing, hanging out, or being friends with anyone else, do I? I totally don't.

I roll my eyes at myself. If you say something often enough, that makes it true, right? Does that work on yourself?

Max tightens her grip on my arm as she briskly walks. I nearly trip before I decide to break it. "So your friends seem cool." A lie on several fronts.

"Yep."

"So… Is there any reason you're acting so weird right now? Like weirder than normal?"

"No. Why're you acting weirder than normal?"

"Smooth comeback, Max. Answer the question."

She squirms. "Just didn't expect to run into them so soon."

I shrug, as good a reason as any.

* * *

"I dunno, Chloe."

"Just trust me on this."

"Because trusting you is obviously a smart move."

"I resent that, Caulfield. Now bring that bony white ass out!"

I should've known that Chloe would immediately begin to change my own sense of fashion at the first opportunity. She's forcing me to buy nearly as much as she is in punkish shirts, cool jackets and torn jeans. Not that that's saying much- Chloe is way more careful, and stingy, with money than I thought. To the point of where she refused to go to a vending machine and get something to drink, despite complaining for half our trip over here about being thirsty.

I step out of the changing booth, and the blue haired bruiser-punk smiles manically. I look into the mirror, and see someone completely unlike Max Caulfield looking back out. Faded and torn pants, a red undershirt with some kind of machine spewing smoke, and a black jacket- like Chloe's.

"I like the look. PunkMax. Has a nice ring to it to." She leans on my shoulder. I blush slightly.

I really need to stop turning red at every little thing she does. Even if she doesn't notice it, I get embarrassed at myself- Making me turn red again. It's a vicious circle.

I step back inside and put my original clothes back on.

"C'mon MadMax, let's get out of here."

"Still have to pay."

"Ew. Way too practical."

We walk over to the cashier's line.

"Because getting arrested for shoplifting the same day my parents meet you again leaves a good first-impression."

"Only would get arrested because you can't run."

"Only would get arrested because you can't time travel."

She scowls. "How do you expect me to compete with time travel?"

"Don't know. Not my problem."

"Jesus, Max the Merciless."

"Ahem!" The twenty something cashier look at us expectantly. She makes the _Please-Stop-Wasting-Everyone's-Time_ motion with her hands, prompting me and Chloe to step up.

I get a raised eyebrow and an amused look while I'm rung up. I guess the shirt I'm wearing that says _Oh My Dog_ with a praying puppy contrasts with a black skull on a white background.

We stop at two other stores on our way home. The first stop is to buy some of the basics, like toothpaste and a brush. Chloe makes some unnecessary comment about someone using someone else's toothbrush, and how 'not cool' that can be. And the other for Chloe to get herself a new phone. I try to talk her out of it, since she's buying an old used one- and say how my parents would pay for an actually decent one, but she's adamant. Apparently, she even has her own plan. They said they used the cloud to get all her old contacts, messages and pictures back.

She just shook her head and complained about 'techno-magic'.

We get some fast food for the walk back.

By the time we're at my house, it's late evening.

* * *

I follow Max back up into her room.

"Dude, you can't just buy punk clothes, and then not wear them. That's like… Er, sacrilege."

"Where'd you even learn that word? And I wouldn't be talking, miss smelly blood stained stitch face."

I grasp my heart. "That hurt me on a personal level. I'm gonna take a shower and try to forget how betrayed I feel. You, meanwhile, better put on some new clothes."

The shower is hot. A nice change of pace, at least when compared to using a water bottle on the side of the road.

I take special attention to avoid getting my stitches wet- doctor said I'd get infected if it happened within two days. And I don't need that.

I gently rub my hair and think.

Any change of plans?

Change of plans?

Leaving in the night to avoid my last memories of Max being a nasty argument?

Oh.

Can't I just stay a few days? If only to spend more time with Max?

The same Max who stabbed me in the back five years ago? Who killed mom _and_ dad? Who sent my entire town to hell? That Max? If she had never existed, none of this would have ever even happened!

I decide to close that door, and avoid the train of thought. I don't like it.

Max is one of the few things I remember from the happier parts of my childhood. And is a member of the even more select group of stuff that makes me smile. She's also the only thing still around from either of the two.

I turn off the water and dry myself off before putting on a towel and going to Max's room, where I left my new crap.

I open the door. Max is laying on top of her bed facing away from me, watching the TV. "Hey PunkMax." I can't see if she's actually put on her new stuff, it's too dark, but I'm willing to bet she did.

"Hey Chloe."

"Sup. Watchya' doing?" I drop the towel to get dressed.

"TV. Being bored."

"Think you'll get your phone fixed tomorrow?" I put on my jeans.

"Well, yeah, why wouldn't-" She turns around, "Jeez, Chloe! A little warning?!" She turns back again.

I pivot away and smile, "You knew exactly what I was doing, don't act like you weren't trying to enjoy the view. Perv." It's really way too much fun to tease Max. It's turning into some kind of hobby.

"Ugh. You're horrible."

"I'm not half as bad as some time travellers I know." I put on a shirt.

"I feel like I'm being singled out."

"Probably because you are. I've never gone back in time to lift a pack of cigarettes." I sit down in her desk chair and begin to spin around.

"So you _don't_ want me to save your ass from getting arrested. Or get you something you're desperate for." She turns around again to look at me.

"Don't pretend to be so kind hearted. I _know_ you stole that candy as well. And kept it for your own personal use. You're covering your own theft with pretending to do something nice for me. You truly are the lowest form of criminal."

"The candy is you saying 'thankyou', and a payment for services rendered."

"Now you're running a protection racket? You're worse than the mob. When can I expect a horse's head on my bed?" I stop spinning around. "Lets watch a movie!"

"Got anything in mind?"

"You still have Blade Runner? I think that was the last movie we watched before you left. Having a sleepover at the Caulfield's is starting to make me all mellow and nostalgic."

Max's smile fades away into unease. She looks like she's about to throw up. "O- Okay."

"…?" My eyebrows raise and I tilt my head.

She ignores my obvious curiosity and shakily gets up to look around for a CD.

I decide to try and coax her with conversation. "I promise I won't fall asleep like I used to."

I can hear her breathing pick up from here. Maybe a more direct approach is needed. "Is everything cool?"

"Yeah! Fine."

"I may be no Deckard," I think he's the one who outs the robots, right? "But you're certainly no Pris." I remember her at least. Her bangs were awesome. "What I'm trying to say Max, is that you're shit at lying."

"Just… Some memories. Trying to forget them."

"Oh. I feel that. A lot, actually. Different movie?"

"Well, keeping the sci-fi theme, maybe The Fifth Element?"

"Never heard of it, but sure."

She's much more at ease with this than Blade Runner, going by the fact she automatically knows where the CD is. Once the main menu loads up and she hits play, I ask "So… You wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about it?"

"You said you trying to forget some stuff. Want to let off some steam?"

"No really, I'm fine."

"KK." I let it drop. "So what's this movie about?"

"Well, evil incarnate is coming to ruin everything. It's up to Bruce Willis and a half mad red-haired girl to save the world."

"Ooh, riveting." The films starts and I throw myself on Max's bed.

"Ow, be more careful."

"Quiet Maxite, you're ruining the movie." She turns over and shoots me a fake pair of angry eyes. I smile is response.

I drift in and out of consciousness throughout the film. The last I remember of it, a crazy business guy named Zorg is shooting the hot red-head.

I get up and look around. It's the middle of the night and the movie's over. Max fell asleep to. At least she doesn't get to complain.

I carefully get up and grab my bag of clothes. Figure it would be smart to sleep in the guest room. Max probably would kick me out if she was still awake, considering how I tried to use her as a foot rest in the truck before.

I open a door next to Max's and walk in. Going by the fact there aren't two middle aged people sleeping on the bed, I assume it's the guest room.

I throw myself down and roll over.

I pull out my phone. No new messages. Not that I was expecting any. It was good luck the shop was able to get my images, texts and contacts. Not that I'm sure how they did it. I start to roll through the list of names and old texts that've been downloaded.

'Joyce Price'. I changed it to her name from 'mom' after a nasty argument. Happened just before I started my trend of running away for weeks at a time. The last message I sent her is a few weeks old. It's about how much I hate her. My eyes well up with tears.

'Asshole'. Short and to the point. David Madsen. I'd initially put it in as his name when I first met him. Shortly after that he hit me for the first time and I made it this. Never put it back. We never messaged once. Though I had to prune my voicemail weekly to delete his calls about me being a 'bad stepdaughter' or how I was 'ruining my life' and 'upsetting my mother'.

'Maxine Caulfield'. Max's old phone number, from when she left. I never deleted our texts. The last sent one reads "Dude, y r u avoiding me? Srsly not cool. Text back- It sucks here w/o u!" The last undelivered one, a few months after the fact says, "I fucking hate you so much max. I fucking you and my dad so goddamn much. I just wish everything would fucking burn."

'Back to the MaxTure'. A play on Back to the Future. A lame joke that doesn't work, but that's all I can come up with. I've spammed modern Max with various texts over the past week.

'Rachel Amber'. I scroll through our messages. Six months since she sent me one. Six days since I sent her one.

It reads "I know you won't get this. All my messages since you left never got delivered. I'm sending this for my sake.

I miss you. A lot. But I'd like to think you'd still want me to be happy. That being said, you'll never guess who I found at BlackHell today. Max Caulfield. Talk about weird.

I'm pissed that you left me behind, and I'll never forgive you for it, but I hope you're not begging for change on a street corner.

Mildly good wishes, C."

An exclamation in a circle shows it never got received. My eyes water.

'Nathan PissScott'. I only have his number because I was trying to blackmail him for his drug shit, after he abducted me. Most of the texts are him freaking out and me setting up a meeting. I haven't gotten around to deleting him yet. I move my thumb over the button to remove it, but I hesitate and stop.

I figure that I should torture myself and keep it. All of it.

I should have a constant reminder of how everyone and everything has always tried to fuck me over. How the only person I can trust is myself. I blink away tears.

…

He's standing over me. His smile is disgusting.

He then lays down next me, a light flashes. I feel disgusting.

"You _like_ _that,_ don't you?"

He rolls over and crawls at me with the camera.

I blink. I can barely feel myself.

"Sucks that you're not Rachel, but…"

The memory is slowly coming back. I tried to steal some money off of him. Should've been an easy enough mark. Another drunk rich kid. He must've slipped something in my drink.

My heart rate skyrockets. I turn my head and try to raise my arm.

My vision is blurred to hell.

"The fuck? Dumb bitch, you're supposed to stay down!" I see him reach for some kind of needle. I think.

Instinct kicks in and I recklessly kick at him, knocking him to the side. Another thrash sends a lamp over.

I run for the door.

I stumble down a flight of stairs into the campus green. I'm at Blackwell.

It's the middle of the night.

The Academy and streets are deserted.

I shamble in a dazed, yet panicked, confusion to 'home'.

Of course my keys are missing. I slump over as I check the windows to see if I can go through an open one.

I give up and clumsily knock at the door. David opens it.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing out this late and coming home? I told you a dozen times already. _Don't_ come back here unless you're going to live by my rules."

"…"

"Jesus, and you're high!? Thank God your mother is sleeping. Dammit Chloe, get your act together! You better not have anything still on you." He steps forward and tries to pat me down.

I stumble away and force him off me. "G-Go to fucking hell you prick!"

He smacks me. I swing at him and miss. He grabs my throat and throws me against the wall. "Goddammit! Pull yourself together soldie- Chloe!"

I'm choking back tears with all my might. His expression softens.

He lets go. "Please Chloe, please. Just _try_ to do better." The voice is tired and beat.

I shamble up the stairs and into my room. The door closes with my back against it.

I slide to the floor and quietly sob.

…

I hear a door click and I shoot up.

Vanessa is standing in front of me. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." She sounds sincere.

"Is there a reason you're interrupting a bad night's sleep?" My own voice is dry and sarcastic.

She sighs, "You and I both know you're bad news for Max. She's a good kid, and doesn't need someone dragging her down."

"I beg your pardon?" Is this some kind of weird joke? I should wait to see what she's talking about before flipping out at Max's mom.

"I don't mean to sound rude Love, but I know people like you quite well. In the end, whether your fault or not, you're going to get into trouble, and bring Max down with you. And it's going to keep happening until her future is as bright as yours." She pauses. "I know you and Max are old friends. I'd like to think you care about her well being. And It's because of that I wouldn't be surprised if you plan on leaving already, flighty nature aside. Because deep down, you know what I'm saying is true."

She's not wrong. I open my mouth to tell her to go to hell all the same.

"Now before you start ranting, I know life hasn't exactly been fair to you. As… a thank you for leaving without a ruckus, and a means of my condolences, I'd like for you to have this."

She gently places an envelope on the bed, near my feet. She looks at me expectantly.

I reach over and open it. It's filled with money.

"It's my private rainy day fund. Ryan nor Max will know you have it. Five grand to get you wherever you want and pay for a hotel with food for a while. All I'm asking is that you help me, help Max."

My head is spinning. I don't want to leave Max.

… But it's what I've been planning to do.

If I stayed, this would be happening anyway, just with Ryan and a swift kick out the door. Likely with Max shouting at me, leaving our last memories of each other even more bitter than when we first parted.

"…"

She sees me thinking. "If it helps, the fact you're considering this means you can only cause harm."

I numbly grab my phone, keys, and clothes with the money. 'I'm helping Max' is the mantra I repeat in my head.

This is something I have to do. I can't go through it all over again. Not after Dad. Not after Max left the first time. Not after Rachel died. Not now that mom is gone.

I can't deal with getting attached to anyone again, only to get stabbed in the back. Or even just left behind.

"Thank you" She says as I drift past her.

I blankly twist the keys and start the ignition. I'm dumbfounded as I deftly pull on to the highway and start driving aimlessly.

I grip the steering wheel tighter. "I fucking hate everything."


	4. Hangover

**Werewolf Gimmick, from The Mountain Goats; watch?v=xYwcSIBdOik**

The headache rolls around my head.

I'm laying down. That much I can figure out.

I'm also not in immediate danger. Or at least it doesn't seem like it.

The sun is out. Some clouds float delicately by.

I gingerly lift my head up.

Lying in the bed of the truck.

My head thumps back down on the metal.

A sigh. My head is hurting like one helluva bitch.

The world slightly spins.

Why am I soaking wet?

And what the fuck happened?

The memories slowly start sailing back.

 _Right_.

Vanessa.

Max.

I roll on my side and reach for my back pocket. Still have a pack of cigs.

I flip open the top and pull a smoke out with one hand. Setting it next to me, I roll over to the other side and grab my light.

I light it, then roll to the side one last time.

…

I'm speeding down the highway. Not a fucking clue where I'm going and I don't care.

The truck screams and cries for pity on each sudden turn and stomp on the accelerator.

Making a split-second decision, I fling the truck onto the approaching off-ramp.

It's been about an hour of manic driving since I finally accepted the way things simply have always been, and will be. Me against the world.

The brake gets slammed down when I nearly fly by a loud club.

Perfect.

I jump out of the cab and walk up to the door. Two bouncers are guarding it.

"I.D."

"Let me in."

"Sorry, no I.D., no getting in."

I shove the bigger one in another direction. His friend puts his hand on my shoulder.

"You're going to have to leave. _Now_."

I swing and hit him in the face. He staggers away. His friend comes back, and throws me to the floor.

"Motherfucker!" I shout.

I get back up before he can take advantage. This time I aim for the throat. He falls back into the door, after he gets hit in his double chin.

The thin one comes from behind, and takes grabs my arms. We both lose our footing and go to the ground when I start to thrash and kick.

"Alright! All fucking right! I fucking get it! Get off me! I'm gone!

…

Walking away from the club, I slam the door and truck shakes.

The wheels spin in a loud whine.

Buildings come and go in an instant.

I hit the brakes again. This time it's a bar.

Half the truck is running up the pavement by the time I get out.

No one is standing guard. And no one stops me from going in.

The bartender is an older man.

"Beer."

He fills up a glass tankard before handing it off and turning away.

He goes away to talk to his only other customer.

I down it in one swift movement.

They both look at me when they notice it.

If I was here for the friendly atmosphere and good drink, I wouldn't be coming in fifteen minutes before last call, now would I? I flag him for another.

He fills it. "Aren't you a bit young?"

"Go to hell." Is my reply. Don't need to get beaten by two bouncers to know when I'm not wanted. I pound the brew down the same way as before, and slam money onto the counter. Walking away briskly, a glance behind me shows he almost looks sad at how our conversation went.

The door explodes as I shut it again.

I take a minute to gather my surroundings. The buildings look weirdly familiar.

Is… Is this…?

You've _got_ to be shitting me.

This is right along the route I took getting Max to her home. Which means I'm still in the middle of Seattle.

Two hours of fucking driving, and I'm right back where I started.

How much goddamn work does it take to get out of this hellhole!?

I stomp the gas. The engine begs for mercy where it will find none.

The two of us poor wretches barely get going before the brakes are slammed again. A liquor store.

Running in, I fill my arms with the cheapest and nastiest vodka that can be found. Piling them on the counter, I walk back and grab three cases of beer. The register slave doesn't bother asking for anything other than money, which is gladly thrown at him.

It takes two trips to pack it all in the truck.

This time, I'm a bit calmer- I almost drive like a sane person as I get onto the highway. Headed out the same direction I came in.

The cell phone starts to ring.

How long has it been since Vanessa and I had our 'heart to heart'? Who cares. At least it's still dark out.

They leave a voice mail.

Instinct makes me check the number. I don't know it. But I know who's calling all the same.

I smile because I've already cracked the screen.

The moon is lovely. A cloud glides past it. Like in a classic horror movie.

Or good photo…

The _damn_ phone rings again. Another voicemail.

It repeats itself for clarity's sake.

The black of night feels safe. Secure.

I love it.

The truck recklessly slides onto the side of the highway and comes to a stop.

The battered brown bag holding the bottles of vodka has slid over.

I steal one, and grab a six pack.

A smile appears on me. Not manic. Just happily hopeless.

I jump out and throw down the hatch to sit on. It makes quite a good seat.

I longingly look over my old friends. How long has it been again? At least a week. Technically a few days since I've had some beer, but that doesn't count.

It was quite the one eighty turn on my part when I realised Max was here. Wish it could be said that was the result of me 'growing up'. But it was really because I wanted Max to think I was worth her time again. What kind of high powered rich city kid would care about a small town alcoholic stoner? I'd never really had gotten over her. Like Dad. Or Rachel.

I tear off the cap, and commit to the longest, and most disgusting swill in recent memory. My eyes water. My throat burns. The angry pain is unlike anything else. I tear it away only when I can't take it anymore.

It'd only taken two days before Joyce noticed a change. Her knowing eyes couldn't help but reveal some certain surprise, or thanks, when she realised I hadn't been completely high or gone on a drunken bender in entire days. Not to mention I'd slept in the house for more than one night in a row.

I crack open a beer and follow the vodka.

I like when she pretended to care about me. It was nice. 'Course, that was few and far between. Most of our conversations ended in shouting and yelling.

How she'd jumped onto step prick the first chance she got. How I got brought home by the police.

Another long pull at the vodka. A stifled cough.

How she let him hit me. How I got into fights.

The alcohol begins to work as my arm gets more difficult to control. Another beer.

How she hated everything about me. How I hated everything about her.

A swill of beer. I drop the empty bottle off the side and into the street.

But every now and again, we had our moments. Like when I first discovered I had limits when it came to drinking, she helped me.

I can't really remember it, but I was puking my brains all over myself. On the ground, next to my bed. She turned me on my side and waited with me until I sobered up enough to get a change of clothes and climb under the sheets. She even cleaned up the wine-purple bile while I slept on the mattress. No insulting comments. No disappointed shakes of the head. Just a 'stay safe' when all was said and done.

Throat's still on fire. More beer. Still burning, need an extra swallow.

Hell. I wish I could say our problems were even fifty-fifty her fault. When she confronted me about my smoking, I said I got it from her. The pain on her face still hurts to think about. It was a flat out lie, to. I started it out because I didn't have enough ways to fuck myself up and needed to rebel. It went unnoticed until Rachel came along. There, it truly flourished under her encouragement. That's also when Joyce took notice. Thought I'd enjoy seeing the true, genuine, hurt in her. I didn't.

Fucking hell. Need to be drunker for this shit. I carefully raise the vodka bottle to my lips again, being certain not to spill it.

My tongue has started to go numb and isn't feeling as much of the sting.

I get greedy and go for an extra pull, but choke and end up coughing.

Can't fucking believe Rachel was fucking Frank. I don't give a _shit_ if we were only 'fuck buddies'. She stabbed _me_ in the back. You don't hide bull like that. You fucking come out and admit it!

She fucking played me like a fiddle. Manipulated me in every sense of the word. Disgusting bitch. I should've known better. I should've realised right from the get go, all of her mind games. All the mental pushes and pulls to make me a puppet. She had me wrapped around her finger. Six months on and I'm still like a lost puppy.

You know what Rachel? Fuck you. I'm glad you're dead. Damn whore.

…

… Ugh, Jesus. I'm sorry, Rach. Forgive me? Please? You know how I get...

But why didn't you just fess up to it!? Why not just tell me the truth? Yeah, I would've been hurt and felt betrayed, but you knew that was going to happen the moment you started fucking him. I'm not hard to predict!

… God I'm needy. My clinginess is probably why were drifting apart.

I flip off the moon, "Fuck you!" There's a deer hiding in the forest. I throw a beer bottle at it, sending it running off.

I take a clumsy pass at the vodka. Going by how much is left, I've drunk way too much. I slam it back down.

"And fuck you David! What type of freak gets off hitting girls? I didn't even try to fight back because I knew what it'd do to mom! Go to fucking hell!"

I can't tell how badly my speech is slurred. It doesn't matter though. Moments like this are meant only for me and whatever uncaring, angry God there may be.

I go down to a whisper. "I hate you to dad. You just had to leave and pick Joyce up." A big breath of air, "Fuck you mom! You killed dad! And fuck you dad! This is all your fault!"

A car blurrily speeds by.

"Go to hell Max! You bastard! I needed you!" My eyes tear up.

"I fucking trusted you!" I scream into the night. My voice is hoarse.

The phone vibrates. A text. I grab it and throw it down the curb.

I roll onto my side and cry. Sleep comes quickly and is deep.

…

The footsteps are getting closer. I feel around and grab last night's bottle. It must've fallen over and spilled on me in the night.

They're right on top of me.

I speak up, "I don't know who you are, but if you're trying to take my wallet, you'll have to fucking kill me for it. And I ain't going down without a fight."

I sit upright in a smooth motion. My head is splitting, though.

It's a police officer. Great. Think I would've preferred the mugger.

"A pleasure to see you again as well, Miss."

"Er… Hello Officer…" Jesus. Is it really the same guy from two days ago? His figure is blurred and marred by hellish day light.

"So why might someone like yourself find themselves in such a condition on my stretch of the road?"

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but let's cut out the bull. If you're gonna' arrest me, let's just get it over with?" I hold my hands together with open palms, before my hangover roars in pain and I grab at it. An accidental yelp escapes my lips. My cigarette falls onto the truck bed.

"Miss, why might I want to arrest you?"

"I dunno'." I delicately shrug. "You're having a bad day? Maybe you just really hate blue hair?"

He smiles at the last remark. "I can see you never repaired your taillights."

I slip off the back, and delicately close the hatch. "Still deciding?"

It promptly falls off my truck altogether with a loud crash.

I bury my head in my hands. " _Why?_ " The question is directed at no one in particular.

"I can however see you took my advice on the stitches. How's your friend? With her parents?"

"Yes, good, and yes." I push the ruined metal scrap with my foot off the side of the highway and into a ditch.

"So where might you be going that requires so much booze?"

"A long trip to nowhere."

"Cryptic. Not helping you get out of a ticket."

"Not as cryptic as it sounds. I don't even have a clue."

"Okay. So where are you coming from?"

"Seattle. Terrible place, don't go there." My headache growls angrily.

He smiles. "And before that?"

"Look, why are you even asking these questions?" My hand steadies my body.

He speaks matter-of-factly, "Because I don't know if you're a threat to me or anyone else." I'm pretty sure that's a lie. Why does what town I'm from change if I'm a 'threat'?

"… Arcadia Bay." I spit the words out on the ground.

" _Oh._ "

"There you go. Mystery solved." I hold out my hands and close my wrists together again. "Decided on what you're aiming to do yet?"

"Well, figured I ought to return this to its rightful owner, for starters." He reaches behind himself and pulls out my phone. "Any chance you know who it belongs to?"

"No."

"Odd. The opening screen is a picture of the same girl that was in your truck."

"…"

"And there's a few texts directed at one 'Chloe'. The person who sent them seems upset. Sounds like something so bad happened, a person might want to go into a drunken stupor to forget it."

I grab at the phone, "Dude, don't read that shit! It's private!"

He steps back, "Calm down Miss!"

I heel and start to silently stew, angry at myself for making him angry, and for moving to quick, agitating my hangover. "Can I have it back?"

"Absolutely." He passes it off with an accusatory glare. "Now can you tell me why you're passed out on the side here?"

"I don't know. I'm not being a prick, I just really don't know." My eyes start to water for reasons unknown. "I'm just so fucking tired and…"

His head tilts and a look that feigns sympathy appears.

Fuck it.

If you can't fess up to what's killing you in the middle of an extreme hangover, to a cop you've gotten in a fist fight with, in a reality that never happened, who the hell can you talk to?

Probably anyone else.

"Everyone I know is dead. The end. That one frightened hipster you saw is the last person on Earth I know the name of." I laugh. "My dad is dead. My stepfather who liked to hit me is dead. My mother is dead. The drug dealing loan shark who's been stalking me is dead. Rachel's dead."

I degrade and hold my head in my hand.

"My 'home' has been turned to rubble. I live out of a shitty truck." My arms get thrown up, before falling down. "And now I'm running away from the only friend I've ever had because I'm terrified she'll get bored of me, or just stab me in the back, before throwing me away" I smile, "Even her own fucking mother could tell how much of a goddamn train wreck I am, and payed me off to get me the hell out of their lives."

"…"

"Like I wouldn't have done it anyway." I pause. "Can I reach in my back pocket and pull out a smoke?"

"I'd be careful with the lighter. You're so drenched you might go up." He tries to commit to the joke and grin.

The drag is so satisfying. The gentle sway in the trees in comforting. The smoke dances and twirls upwards.

"… Well Miss, it sounds like you could use some help."

"I'm fucking shocked. Guess who's not getting, or searching for 'help'." I sigh, "You still haven't said if you're arresting me. Or ticketing me. Or whatever the fuck it was you wanted to do."

"I'm not going to arrest you, or ticket you. Or whatever else you were thinking of. But can I offer some advice?"

"If I say 'no' you're going to give it anyway."

A smile comes out as he shifts his weight. "Either go to your friend and talk things out with them, since you two seemed close in the two minutes I saw you, or go to Arcadia Bay and get involved with the rescue and recovery efforts, for closure. Maybe both. But I can say with confidence you won't like the road you're going down."

"I know the road pretty damn well. Waking up in ditches with a broken nose, searching for a good shot and a smoke. Maybe a few hits if I'm lucky."

He frowns. I continue, "It's the other ones that scare me." A pause. "I'll talk to her." A lie. But now I'm getting angry and need him off my back before I do something rash.

"I hope things work out well for you." He turns and starts to go back to his cruiser.

Go to hell you fucking prick.

After he pulls away, I throw the empty bottles off my truck and clamber into the cab with an expression of pain.

I don't feel shitty enough. I pull out my phone and look at the texts.

"Please come back. Please."

"Chloe, I'm worried."

"Where are you?"

I don't deserve Max's concern.

I open up the voicemails and put it on speaker.

"Hey Chloe! It's me Max. Woke up without you here, kind of embarrassed that I started to panic. Anyway, I'm calling you from dad's phone. Mom and him are up, and say you left a few minutes ago. I figure you went to get and smoke some cigarettes, just call me when you get to the store?" There's an obvious worry in the tone.

Another call thirty minutes later.

"Me again! Don't mean to hound, but _please_ call back soon. You can joke about me being naggy all you want, but send a text?" There's a muted discussion in the background.

I press the next one.

"Chloe!" She sighs, "Uh, Chloe, please call back!" Her voice is unnerved _._ "It's super important _please_ , like, really call back." A male and female argue and bicker between her words.

Not feeling bad enough, yet. I hit play.

"Chloe?" _Viserceral_ is how I'd describe the sound coming out of the phone. "Chloe, what's happening?" The same male and female are now shouting. They manage to grow above her own speech. Something breaks and the call cuts out.

Last message. Sent way later than the others, probably around when I was passed out.

" _Chloe!_ " She's been crying. " _You promised you would be with me!_ " Other voices eclipse her own. "I TOLD YOU-" "DON'T YOU DARE RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME"

I stop the play back.

I can't even leave without ruining everything. God, I'm pathetic.

Either keep running away, and make things worse. Or go back, and make them worse.

At least if I go back, I can comfort Max. Or maybe feel better about my own life.

Jesus, I'm so fucked up.

The engine coughs and sputters. It's trying to resist, but fails. The truck pulls a U-turn as it stumbles away and heads for Seattle.

…

I've shut my mind off. Nothing's going through my head.

I pull up to Max's house, and recognize the notable absence of a black SUV.

A tepid knock at the door and nervous wait rewards me with Vanessa Caulfield staring at me through a half-opened door.

"Why am I not surprised. Of course, you smell like alcohol. What do you want?"

"Was- Er, I…" I get tongue tied for the first time in quite a while. I sigh, "Can I see Max?"

"She's in her room."

I start to walk in when she grabs my shoulder, "I expect my money back."

We lock eyes, "In the truck, under the driver's seat. Door's unlocked."

She lets go and I trundle up the stairs.

A knock on her door is met with a firm "I _don't_ want to talk to you."

My heart plummets, and I start to walk away.

Vanessa shouts at me, "What the hell is this, Chloe!?"

The door speaks, "Chloe!?"

Max runs out and grabs hold of me.

Why the _fuck_ don't you hate me, Max? Why!?

She laughs, "You smell so drunk!"

"Chloe, I said get down here right now!"

Max doesn't let go as I go back down.

I enter the living room and see Vanessa holding a bag of money and a gun. David's gun.

"Well!? Explain yourself!"

She looks over at Max, "See? This is what I was talking about! I know you're friends, but she's no good!" She starts to wave it around.

"Mrs. Caulfield, be careful! It's loaded!"

"And what were you planning to do with it!?"

Max speaks, "She- We got into some trouble back in Arcadia Bay, okay?"

" _You_ _knew_ about this, Max!?"

"Please put it down!" I shout. After shooting Frank in the leg, almost by accident, I'm a lot more concerned about how people handle guns.

She calms down. I notice Max tilt her head. "Mom, what's in the bag?"

The older woman sighs, "Your beloved friend and I _had_ agreed that she would only wind up hurting you. I gave her some of my own money to get her on her way."

"So you weren't lying to dad!?"

"Christ, your idiot father and his loud mouth." She looks away.

"I was standing next to the door while you argued!" Max begins to cry.

I reach over to pat her, "Get away!" She backpedals. "You let her pay you off!?" Her hand brushes runaway tears. " _How could you?_ "

She looks so hurt.

My stomach turns.

"Max, I…"

She runs back up the stairs. The door slams shut.

"So, Price. Good work." The older brunette seems to have aged from 40ish to 60ish in a matter of minutes.

I walk up after Max and knock on the door. "Go away Chloe! After all that's happened, why do you still hate me!?"

I don't! I do! I don't fucking know anymore!

I stumble down the stairs. I can't tell if it's the hangover and the yelling, or just stress that's making my head feel like it's exploding.

The back door is open. Following it out, I find Vanessa smoking.

I take out my own pack and light up.

She speaks first. "What, so we smoke the same brand and now you think we're all nice and friendly?"

"I don't get it. Why do you hate me?"

"Why do I hate you? I could ask you the same thing. You're the straw the broke the camel's back. I had to kick Ryan out of his own house, and now my daughter won't speak to me. Why do _you_ hate me _,_ Chloe?"

"I didn't do shit. And you've always been against me. Even before you left Arcadia Bay."

"You've got to be kidding me. Do everyone a favour and grow up. I knew from the second I saw you in that drive way that you were just another dime-a-dozen burnout who was ruining the lives of themselves, and everyone around them. Only to wind up making more of yourselves. Max has a good chance of having a future. One worth living." Her eyes start to sparkle with some degree of hope, "With _actual_ power and influence. She can have pull and be better than you lot. Not just have money, but _gravitas._ " This is starting to sound like a speech. "But only if she's guided right, and those who bring her down are left behind." She sighs, coming to the conclusion that her little address is having no effect. "Why're you still here, Chloe?"

"I'm not leaving until I can speak to Max."

"Well, don't hold your breath. She might not act it, but when she's cross, she's stubborn as all hell."

Flicked on the ground, the dying embers from my cigarette get crushed.

Here's an idea.

I walk away and go back into my truck to grab the vodka and beer.

I head up the stairs and knock on her door. "I'm coming in!"

" _Don't_."

"Tough." I swing it open.

"What do _you_ want?" The hipster is wrapped in a blanket on her bed. The TV plays softly. She has headphones in her ear.

The door closes behind me. "Honestly? I don't know." A bit more honest than intended. "But I'm pretty sure you need a drink. You never said what it is you preferred, but I have what I like here."

"So your go-to solution is to drink? Aren't you already drunk?" She tears out the earphones and looks at me.

I've got her talking. Step one accomplished. "First question yes, second question no. I only smell like it. I may, or may not have slept in a pool of vodka."

I tear off the top, and take a swig. The burn hurts good.

I pass it off to her. She says, "You really think you can win me over with this?"

Her jab lands like bullet.

I'm so fucking useless. " _No_." My voice wavers. " _But I really hope so_." I hold off the water building in my eyes and smile.

It's the _only_ thing I can _ever_ really offer.

Max furrows her brow, before gently lifting the bottle up to her mouth. She coughs violently.

I half heartedly grin. "Guess I should've known you don't do hard liquor. Figured you were softer."

"Chloe, I don't even drink."

"... Didn't you tell me- "

"Yes, I said I do. Doesn't mean I actually do."

 _Oh_.

"Fair enough, some idiots might call me an alcoholic. When was the last time you got drunk?"

"Never." She shrugs and shakes her head. She's turned red.

No. No, no, no.

I tear the bottle out of her hands. No, I'm not turning Max into me. I'm not letting Vanessa be right.

She takes it back and commits to a deeper swig than before. Another violent coughing fit.

"Max, this was a bad idea, I don't…"

"Jeez Chloe! I've tried everything to make you like me! To be more like you! Just let me have _something_ in common with you!"

I freeze in place. This was a mistake. A massive fucking mistake. I should've just kept driving and never come back.

How do I make this right?

Can I even fix this?

"Max… You need to stay away from me."

Her brows furrow. She speaks, "What? Why? Chloe, I don't get it! What happened? I thought you'd forgiven me for leaving!"

"That was before a thousand people died, Caulfield!" I'm not even sure what I'm talking about by this point. Just arguing for the sake of it.

Her voice breaks, "What would you have me do!? Let you die again!?"

"I don't fucking know!? Okay!? If you haven't fucking realised it yet, I'm a human catastrophe! It's not bad luck I got thrown out of school, or was on a first name basis with the police! Your mother's right, I'm only going to bring you down if we're friends."

"What are you talking about!?" Annoyed, exasperated and sad are the emotions I'm hearing.

"I don't know who the hell you think I am- I only know I'm not that person. Just try not to fuck yourself up?" I awkwardly stand up. I'm not drunk off the single swig I took just now, but this is the worst hangover I've had in a while.

The world seems to momentarily glow. My headaches lurches.

Max grabs my arm. A small river of blood comes out of her nose. It looks like she's also smeared it on her hands and has tried rubbing it away. I'm not sure if I'm heartbroken, since what I'm doing is obviously ruining her, or if I'm furious and pissed off at her for rewinding me. What if she causes another storm?

"Just let me speak! Please Chloe!"

I go to open my mouth, she cuts me off, "Just listen to me for once!" She sounds in pain.

* * *

I grab her arm.

"Get your hands off me, Caulfield!" She breaks my grip and marches out the door.

I know I'll never see her again. I can sense it. There's too much finality in the air. In her words.

She came back. And when the truth came out came about the money, I didn't forgive her. I simply ran away to my room.

She even came up here to comfort me. And I still messed it up.

This was my second chance and I blew it.

I raise my hand, and everything starts to work in reverse. There's a slight scratching under my skull.

I grab her arm.

"Please don't go!"

"Max, it's for the best." She tries to break my grip, but I hold on tighter, "Back off Caulfield!" She twists my arm, and I let go out of instinct. She walks out.

Again.

I grab her arm. I feel a slight trickle down my nose.

We pause.

"For fuck's sake Caulfield! Are you rewinding me!? Back the fuck off!" I lose my grip and she storms away.

I wipe away the blood.

Again.

I feel like someone's drilling out of my skull.

I grab her arm.

"Just let me speak, Chloe!"

She seems to think, before noticing my nosebleed. It's grown back.

Her features anger. "No."

Again.

I grab her arm and hang on to it.

The pain in my head is excruciating.

"C-Chloe, please! I'm begging you, don't leave!"

"I'm sorry Max, but your mom's right."

What the hell could she possibly be right about!?

Again.

I grab my head and scream in agony. The pain grows even though I'm not rewinding.

She walks away.

 _Again_.

The world starts to dim when I go back. My head catches fire. Chloe starts to walk backwards, before teleporting forwards, and then standing in front of me again.

I grab her arm.

"Chloe, I can't keep doing this!"

She looks at me, then the growing river of blood coming out of my nose.

Her expression hardens.

"Then stop doing it."

Again.

My head starts to come undone. I've never been in so much pain. I feel like there's a gaping hole in my head. I don't open my eyes, but stop when it seems like enough time has passed.

I grab her arm.

"Just let me speak! Please Chloe!" She tries to respond, but I cut her off, "Just listen to me for once!"

I start talking before she opens her mouth, "I'm sorry! For everything! For leaving five years ago, for what happened to Rachel, everything! I'm sorry for never calling you, for not being able to help Kate, for the storm, everything I have and haven't done! Just please forgive me!" I'm tripping over my own words. "I can't do this without you! You're the only one who knows about me and my powers, or how Jefferson tortured me in the Dark Room! I need you!"

* * *

"You're the only one who knows about me and my powers," Max is panicking. I'm a fucking _monster_. Should've left the _second_ I dropped her off. "Or how Jefferson tortured me in the Dark Room! I need you!" Tears start to fall from her face.

Wait, what? _Tortured?_ I thought he only kidnapped you? Didn't David get you out a minute later?

A silent gulf grows.

"Did you say tortured?" My voice is delicate.

"I already told you. Or I think I did. I don't even know what has and hasn't happened." She sniffs and grabs at her head.

"But you told me David got you out."

" _He did._ But I had to rewind _so_ many times, and relive the same day over and over again. Jefferson prodded me with needles constantly, and I saw David get beaten, shot and killed more times than I can count." She shrinks away.

 _My fault._

"Chloe, I _need_ you. You're the only friend I have."

"Why do even care about me, Caulfield!? I'm just a fuckup who you used to know!" I lose my calm.

" _Don't_ say that! You're one of the few, if not the only person I have on my side."

"Stop it. You have your parents and your friends."

"Chloe!" The voice reeks of exasperation and fear. "Chloe, you already met all of my two friends. And you saw how quick they made fun of me in front of you."

They did poke her quite a bit…

I change my posture.

"And you know how my mom paid you to leave."

She did…

"The worst part about it all is that the one person I thought I could trust, took her money and nearly disappeared forever."

Wait. Oh God. Oh God. I'm doing the same thing to Max that everyone has done to me.

My stomach summersaults as my heart plummets through the floor.

I try to speak. "I-I… M-Max, I'm…"

She looks up at me.

I sigh and recollect myself. "Max, I think we both need this." I pick up the vodka bottle and commit to a horrible, yet pleasant, painful series of chugs.

I give it to her. She smiles from relief, and takes a small sip.


End file.
